


The Call

by TMS



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02
Genre: Action/Adventure, Dark Area | Dark Ocean, Drama, Gen, Horror
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-14
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-04 23:22:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 138
Words: 274,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10292387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TMS/pseuds/TMS
Summary: In the summer of 2003, the nightmares begin, seeping into reality and forcing the Chosen Children into a confrontation with a lingering evil from out of the past.





	1. The Dreams Begin

**Author's Note:**

> This story was begun in November 2010, with the earlier chapters being posted to the With the Will Digimon forums. Later it was added to fanfiction.net, where the last chapter was posted in April 2016. Someone requested that I upload the completed novel here as well.

Preface

_“I have an odd craving to whisper about those few frightful hours in that ill-rumored and evilly shadowed seaport of death and blasphemous abnormality… It helps me, too, in making up my mind regarding a certain terrible step which lies ahead of me.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Shadow Over Innsmouth”_

(Feel free to skip this.)

Before I get on with the story, I have a confession to make. I’ve always looked down somewhat on fan fiction as an art form. It was easier to write when a world and characters had already been made by someone else, and for that reason I would assume that most of the people drawn to writing fan fiction were authors who have problems coming up with their own original ideas.

I have been a devoted fan of Digimon for many years now, and a while back I came across this site and decided that I might as well look into the Digimon fan fiction it had. This was years ago, and I hope no one here will be offended when I say that what I found didn’t help improve my opinion of the genre. There were some good, well-written stories, but for each one I found there were seemingly hundreds of stories which were just awful – bizarre romantic pairings, mazes of spelling and grammatical errors, characters who bore no resemblance to their animated originals, some stories which had almost nothing to do with the franchise canon at all.

Well, in the end I got tired of wading through such stuff and swore off of fan fiction, possibly forever. It made me uncomfortable to read, like a guilty pleasure that wasn’t really pleasurable. It was about this time that I first began toying with the idea of becoming a writer myself. What spurred me on was my discovery of the works of H. P. Lovecraft, which resonated with me like nothing I had before read.

I owe Digimon for that discovery. I had first looked up Lovecraft after reading that Dagomon and that memorable and unusual episode in Digimon Adventure 02, “The Call of Dagomon,” were inspired by Lovecraft’s fiction. So I started reading. I started writing. I found other references to Lovecraft’s works scattered throughout the Digimon franchise, and my two obsessions fueled each other. I had always been disappointed that the Dagomon subplot was never revisited in the anime, and I guess this naturally led me to wonder how I might have handled the subject matter.

I had planned to never “stoop” to writing a work of fan fiction, but as I started to find my voice as a writer that question wouldn’t leave me alone. Eventually I stopped fighting the urge, and the result was the beginning of this story, The Call, in November 2010.

I’ll begin soon (I promise!), but first I would like to make a note on terminology. I tend to use Japanese names when referring to Digimon and other characters, though I’m OCD and will make some exceptions in the case of the former to avoid some Engrish-induced misspellings.

This story concerns events in the summer of 2003 in the Adventure universe. Since I’m assuming anyone reading this is already familiar with Digimon, I won’t waste much time in-story on exposition. I was inspired to write this story by all the loose ends left by Adventure 02, and the intriguing epilogue to the Original Story, Spring 2003 drama CD: “Afterwards, the world met with even greater trouble. These children, and the others who were chosen in 1999, were shown to be doing very well even 25 years later, but that doesn’t mean that they had lived their days in peace all that time.”

1  
The Dreams Begin

_“May the merciful gods, if indeed there be such, guard those hours when no power of the will, or drug that the cunning of man devises, can keep me from the chasm of sleep.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “Hypnos”_

Half the world lay in darkness, as it always does. The planet rotated eternally, exposing each longitude in turn to the cold black of outer space, and when this happened, the people dwelling on those longitudes slept. Nearly all of these dreamed.

***

At first there was only darkness, and the smell. The smell of salt, and rotting sea creatures. There was no wind to dispel it, and it simply hung in the lightless air. Hikari imagined herself locked in some crypt buried beneath all the oceans of the world.

After what may have been hours, it dawned on her that she could see again, though the sight of her surroundings, the rotting wooden walls of the houses and the dead gray sky above did nothing to assuage her uneasiness. “Never again,” she had promised herself. That was… last October, or November? But, of course, when she had said it then she had been surrounded by those who loved her, who would keep her grounded in one of the two worlds she did not fear. They were not here now. Was it real? Or another dream? She was still dressed in her pajamas. If a dream, all she had to do was struggle, fight against sleep, maybe call out and be heard by someone who could awaken her. If a dream, Tailmon lay in the same room, invisible to the sleeper, but within easy reach of her voice. 

“Tail – mon?” she faltered. There was no response. If she was indeed dreaming, waking up would not be so easy. The dreams had begun again several nights ago, originally merely dark and formless, full of unease but unaccompanied by images or sounds, as they had been back in June of last year. But tonight, she was here again, in this horrible ghost town, hearing the waves of the nearby ocean. The Airdramon had destroyed the place on her first unwilling visit, hadn’t it? Why was it standing once more, not even looking as if newly rebuilt, but as ancient and decrepit as ever?

She didn’t want to stay here, but had no real idea of where to go instead. There was the dark, sinister ocean on one side, and what seemed to be unscalable cliffs on the other. And even if she could climb those rock walls, what might or might not lurk in the forbidding forests brooding at their tops? Eventually she decided to head for the beach, planning to follow the shoreline until the cliffs were gone or climbing them was more feasible. And it was as she took the first few steps down the street that a voice spoke.

“Where are you going, Yagami-san?”

Hikari whirled, but saw no one. The voice, a male voice, sounded human, not at all like the voices she had been dreading to hear since the dream began, but in this place no unknown sound was welcome. The speaker’s words seemed pleasant enough when first heard, but on reflection, she could detect some dark undercurrent behind them, as though they had been a threat rather than an innocent question.

“Who’s there? Where are you?” she asked the empty street.

“Here and there,” the voice replied. “I’ve wanted to meet you for some time, and now it is my pleasure to welcome you back. You did not appreciate your last welcoming committee, and acted rather unreasonably. I hope this time you will accept our hospitality.”

“I don’t want to be here,” she said, backing up towards a tall wooden fence nearby. All the while the voice had been talking she had been attempting to determine where it came from, but could not place it. It was just there. She set her back to the fence, scanning the street and the dark windows of the ancient houses. “I want to wake up.”

“Some other time, then. Soon. We will be waiting, and watching.” And that’s when the hand came from nowhere, reached through the fence, clutched her shoulder, and caused her to start awake in her dark but familiar room. She lay for some time in a cold sweat, unsure if the dream were really over. Sitting up somewhat she could barely discern the furry lump of Tailmon sleeping at the foot of the bed. To think that her partner had been so near, yet so far out of reach, for the duration of the dream – the nightmare.

She fought the urge to awaken the feline Digimon, or even to walk through the apartment to Taichi’s room. She still didn’t know for sure if there was a true problem, or only coincidence. If it happened again, she would let them know. It was a long while before she fell asleep once more.

***

Some distance away in Tamachi, another of the Chosen Children was spending a restless night as well. Ken could not stay asleep. Whenever he would close his eyes, visions of the past would play themselves out in his head.

He would see the Digimon he had dreamed of the night before Demon had attacked, similar to Chimairamon, but darker, larger, more powerful. He would see the gray, terrible ocean, hear its waves, and awake with a feeling as though he were being watched. After a few seconds the sensation would fade, and within minutes he was lost once more in dreams, resuming the guise of the Kaiser – torturing, hating, secretly fearing. Through all this he did not wake Wormmon, who slept peacefully at his side, but spent the night alone, hoping that the dreams would pass and the past leave him be once more.

But the dreams did not pass until sometime after three in the morning. It was then that he woke once more, and the illusion of being observed did not fade as it had before. Eventually the feeling grew so strong that Ken propped himself up on his elbow and looked out into the darkness of the room. Wormmon felt his partner’s movement and stirred at last.

“Ken-chan?”

Ken didn’t answer. He thought he could see something, a darker patch of shadow in the lightless room. Wormmon followed the boy’s eyes and tensed his body.

“Ken, there’s someone…”

“Hello. Hello,” a soft, chuckling voice said from the dark, and the pair in the bed could see the glint of teeth, and the unusual twinkle of dark eyes. A tall, grinning man stood in the corner of the bedroom, near the desk with the computer on it. “It’s so good to see you, Ichijouji-kun! How are you liking our little toy?” The man held up a small object, and Ken’s pulse quickened when he recognized it as his Digivice. “Don’t worry,” the stranger continued, “you can keep it a while longer. I’m interested to see what use you’ll put it to next. Catch!” With a laugh and a flick of his wrist the man threw the D-3 as though he were skipping a stone. Ken threw up his arm as the machine flew past him and struck the wall.

The boy and the Digimon could not have taken their eyes from the man for more than a second, but by the time Ken had the D-3 in his hand and had turned back to face the rest of the room, the stranger had vanished. Had Wormmon not seen and heard the same things, Ken may have dismissed the entire experience as just another nightmare.

Neither of them slept for the remainder of the night.

***

Though Hikari and Ken had the worst of it that night, none of the twelve Chosen Children who had protected the world from the powers of darkness made it through the night wholly undisturbed. Takeru and Miyako dreamed of hearing waves and a familiar voice crying for help. Yamato and Sora had formless visions of wandering through endless mazes of blackness. Even Daisuke, who had never been prone to nightmares, awoke the next morning feeling restless and uneasy.

Nor were the twelve the only ones with odd dreams and fears that night. The world continued to turn, and everywhere darkness went, nightmare followed.


	2. Correlations

_“A weird bunch of cuttings, all told, and I can at this date scarcely envisage the callous rationalism with which I set them aside.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Call of Cthulhu”_

By the time Daisuke, Takeru, Hikari, Miyako, and Iori awakened the next morning, Ken had sent a message to each of their D-Terminals, informing them that they needed to talk but without giving any details. Takeru volunteered his apartment as the place to meet. There were two reasons for this, one being that since three of the six lived in that same building it would be more convenient, the other being that if his mother asked what they were discussing she would at least be the parent perhaps most acclimated to unusual phenomena.

Since the events in December, Natsuko had been in high demand as a reporter who had been connected so closely with both the 1999 and 2002 Digimon incidents. She, along with Sora’s father Haruhiko, had taken to serving as mediators between the Chosen Children and the media, protecting the kids from publicity. “Digimon critics” was what the public had gotten used to calling them. It turned out that she had things to do away from home that day, and the kids’ meeting remained private.

As might be expected, Ken was the last to arrive. The others had to content themselves with idle speculation until he got there, while Chibimon, Poromon, and Upamon focused on Miyako’s obligatory snack selection. None of the children felt particularly vibrant, however, and conversation was unusually sparse. Hikari was especially subdued. She had gotten up that way, and Tailmon was worried, gazing at her partner with sad, wondering eyes.

Finally the doorbell rang again and Takeru left the room, returning with Ichijouji Ken, holding Wormmon, in tow.

“Something strange happened last night,” Ken began without preamble. Hikari straightened suddenly as though pricked. “There was a man in my room. He talked to me about my Digivice, called it his toy, and asked me how I liked it. Then he just disappeared.”

“It was really sudden,” Wormmon joined in, “He was there one second and gone the next.”

“Was he… human?” Takeru asked. Ken gave a slight nod.

“He seemed to be. I don’t know if I should be worried or not. When I saw him holding my Digivice I thought he was going to take it, but he said…”

“What?” Daisuke asked.

“He said I could keep it a while longer.”

“Eh!?” Miyako interjected, “As though he would come for it later?”

“How did he get into your apartment?” Iori asked.

“I don’t know,” Ken replied. “He might have come in through the door under my bunk, but that wouldn’t explain how he got up to my balcony.” He paused. “It reminded me of the first time I saw Archnemon. He was standing in the same place she was, by the computer. Maybe,” his eyes widened, “maybe he came through the computer? From the Digital World?”

The baby Digimon had stopped their munching, and Upamon spoke up, saying, “But isn’t it only children who can go to the Digital World, dagyaa?”

“Archnemon looked like a human grownup, but she was really a Digimon,” Iori said, looking thoughtful.

“But this man looked normal,” Ken said. “He wasn’t wearing strange clothes and didn’t have odd features like she did.”

“Do you think he could be a new enemy?” Takeru wondered.

“If he’s going to try and take Ken’s Digivice, he has to be, right?” Daisuke said, looking around for confirmation, though he received no response.

“Well, he can’t be working for Vamdemon,” Patamon said. “He’s gone for good. And who else is there?”

“I can think of one,” Ken answered. The others gave him their attention. “Demon,” he said. “We didn’t destroy him. What if he got out of the –”

“Dark Ocean.”

All turned and looked at Hikari. She was staring down at her feet, a faraway look in her eyes. She spoke no other word. Takeru felt a sudden chill. They had not considered, when they had locked Demon in the Dark World, what would happen if he ever freed himself. He had gone with a laugh, as though there were no doubt in his mind that one day he would be free again.

And wasn’t there another possibility? Demon himself had mentioned a name, when he first saw the Dark Gate open. Oikawa had repeated it. The ruler of the Dark Ocean. Dagomon. Takeru had asked Vamdemon, before they recognized him, if he were a follower of Dagomon. Those three instances had been the only times the name had ever been uttered. Takeru wondered if any of the others even remembered it.

Hikari did. The Hangyomon, or rather, the things that looked like Hangyomon, had told her of their god, but had not mentioned His name. Demon had supplied that information. She had no proof that Dagomon and the god of the Dark World’s denizens were one and the same, but her instincts told her so. She did not know what Dagomon was. A Digimon? His name would suggest it, but after seeing the true forms of the pseudo-Hangyomon… The word was not so much a name for her as it was a symbol for all that was dark, unknown, frightening.

“Hikari…” Tailmon breathed, more concerned than ever. There was a long silence.

“What should we do?” Miyako asked at last. No one had a ready answer. There didn’t seem to be much of anything to do.

“Maybe we should ask Gennai about it?” Daisuke said.

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” Takeru replied. “If anyone would know of something strange happening in the Digital World, Gennai-san would. We can have Koshiro-san get in touch with him today.” He turned to Ken. “Are you going to be okay at your place?”

“As long as I’m with him, he will be,” Wormmon answered for his partner. Ken nodded.

“I’ll be fine,” he agreed.

***

“There they are,” Hiraga Ayaki reported, watching as the children exited the apartment complex. “Ichijouji and two others, a boy and a girl. Looks like they’re all headed in the same direction.” He paused to see if any orders were forthcoming. “Want me to follow them?” he asked finally.

“That won’t be necessary,” came the reply. Hikari would have recognized the second voice as the calm but eerily intense tones from her dream of the previous night. “The first phase of the plan involves the Digital World. We can always find their addresses later should trouble arise.” The cellphone went dead.

“Guess this means I’m off for the day,” Hiraga said, grinning. _Spying on kids a few hours a day won’t be so bad for what these nuts pay me,_ he thought. _Makes me wonder what kind of reimbursement I could get for more direct stuff._


	3. Further Discussion

_“I have often wondered if all the objects of the professor’s questioning felt as puzzled as did this fraction.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Call of Cthulhu”_

Miyako and Iori walked together from Takeru’s eighth floor apartment to the elevator.

“Did you notice anything strange about Hikari-chan?” Miyako asked her junior. Iori nodded.

“Maybe a little, but I think all of us were a little startled by what Ichijouji-san said. I’m worried that he may be right about Demon. The last time we were only able to seal him away, not destroy him.”

“Yeah, but we were able to beat Armagemon back in March. Maybe Imperialdramon would be able to beat Demon now,” Miyako replied, hoping to convince herself of the thought’s plausibility. “By the way, I think I had a dream about Hikari-chan last night. I can’t remember what it was, though.” Iori looked up at her with questioning eyes.

“What?” she asked.

“It’s nothing,” Iori said. “It’s just that… I had some bad dreams last night for the first time in a while.” Actually, it had been just one dream repeated interminably. He had watched his father die. From the perspective of the killer. 

“I don’t think mine were very good either,” Miyako said. “I wish I could remember what they were about.”

***

Daisuke had invited Ken to spend the day at his apartment, so they said goodbye to Hikari and Tailmon at the elevator and headed for the Motomiya residence. The girl entered her apartment, carrying the Digimon. Taichi walked out of his room just as she was removing her shoes.

“So what was it about?” he asked. Taichi had not gone to the meeting simply because he had not been invited, but he now expected to be filled in.

“There was someone in Ichijouji-kun’s room last night,” she said, hoping that would be the end of it. She loved her brother, and he deserved to know, but she did not feel like talking at the moment. That wasn’t the end of it, of course. Taichi wanted to hear the details, and so she obediently shared them, with interjections and clarifications from Tailmon.

“Is… everything okay, Hikari?” he asked when she was finished. He didn’t expect to get a straight answer. He knew Hikari, and she was not one to vocalize her problems, but he wanted her to know that he noticed, and was willing to listen.

“I’m just… tired,” she said. “I didn’t sleep well last night.” And she went to her bedroom. Once the door was closed, Tailmon decided to try her luck at uncovering the problem. Taichi was Hikari’s brother, and they were as close as siblings could get, but some things were easier to say to one’s partner.

“Hikari, what is the problem? I can see something’s been bothering you all day.” There was silence in the room for a few moments. Hikari sighed.

“I dreamed last night,” she said at last. With that, all the pieces fell into place.

“About the Dark World,” her Digimon finished for her. Hikari nodded dejectedly.

“It’s the first time I’ve seen it since last year. I heard someone talking to me.”

“Someone… You think this might be connected to what happened to Ken?”

“I don’t know.” There was another silence. “Tailmon… am I weak? I thought that all this was over, but… it won’t leave me alone. I’m afraid that I—”

“Stop,” Tailmon interjected. “You are not weak. You are one of the strongest people I know. We should tell the others. Much of our strength comes from our friends.”

The girl was silent for several moments, but then managed a wan but sweet smile.

“Thank you, Tailmon. I’ll tell them.”

***

Upon reaching the Motomiya apartment, Daisuke and Ken were first greeted not by any human, but instead by Caprimon. The furry, helmeted Digimon had been part of the household since around the beginning of summer, one of four partners who appeared simultaneously for siblings of the Chosen Children. Motomiya Jun, Inoue Momoe and Chizuru, and Kido Shuu had been drawn through their respective computers into the Digital World, where they were introduced to their new partners.

That day had been exciting in more ways than one. Not long after the arrival of the four in the Digital World, an earthquake had struck the area. This had been odd in itself, more so when the coincidence of the new partners was considered. Earthquakes were not unknown in the Digital World, but they were fairly rare, especially in the region the humans had found themselves.

Daisuke and the others had entered the Digital World to rescue their new teammates, and as the tremor had been minor, there hadn’t been any casualties, but the strange seismic activity in the Digital World had continued off and on ever since.

Several days before Ken had called the meeting about the intruder in his apartment, a massive earthquake had struck. The damage was again minimal because the epicenter had been far out in the ocean, but almost the entire Digital World had felt the shaking. Neither Gennai nor Koshiro could account for the increasing number of seismic disturbances, and the problem had been weighing somewhat on the minds of the Chosen.

Caprimon was looking rather miffed and dejected. Jun had gone out, leaving her sleeping partner behind. If one had not noticed the Digimon’s expression, they would still know of her bad mood from the whining sound produced by the cones on her helmet. Daisuke was usually good with baby Digimon, but Caprimon tended to get on his nerves, possibly just because she was his sister’s partner, certainly because of that sound. Upset was Caprimon’s usual state of mind.

“Oh, you’re back,” she began. “Did you bring anything to eat?”

“Not really,” Daisuke answered. “Just get something out of the fridge.”

“I can’t open the fridge!” she reminded him. He looked at Ken with an apologetic shrug and went to the kitchen to get something for her to eat. There followed a few minutes of arguing as Caprimon refused to decide on any one food, but eventually her hunger won out and she didn’t send him back to the fridge with his latest offering. The children and their partners headed for Daisuke’s room and closed the door, though they could hear the whine of Caprimon’s helmet grow shriller as they did so.

“Sorry about that,” Daisuke said. “She’s almost as bad as my sister.”

“I don’t mind,” Ken replied.

“That’s really strange, what happened to you last night,” the other continued. “What did that guy look like?”

“I couldn’t really see him clearly, just his smile and eyes, but I know he was tall. I don’t think I could pick him out from a crowd, though maybe if I heard his voice I would recognize him.” It was the voice that Ken chiefly remembered. It had been overflowing with a sort of dark humor, as if the man were laughing at some secret so terrible only he would find amusement in it. It was a ridiculous thought, but Ken couldn’t rid himself of it.

Daisuke smiled, and clapped his friend on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it! We’ll figure this out. And if there’s bad guys to take on – there’s no one more likely to beat them than us.” Which was very true, Ken knew.


	4. Arkham

_“He was in the changeless, legend-haunted city of Arkham, with its clustering gambrel roofs that sway and sag over attics where witches hid from the King’s men in the dark, olden years of the Province.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Dreams in the Witch-House”_

Koshiro sat back at his computer, waiting for Gennai’s reply to his chat request. He had received Takeru’s message mere minutes ago, and had been quick to act. While he waited, he thought back to the incidents of 2002. So much had happened before then that when Daisuke and the others joined the group there had been a good deal to catch them up on. Not only were there the 1999 adventures, but all the incidents that occurred in the three-year period afterward: the struggles with Diablomon and Millenniumon.

Millenniumon. That was what was really bothering him. Ken had still not been reminded of the role he had played in defeating the villain, or of Ryo, whom he had been such close friends with but now could barely remember. There had been a good deal of forgetfulness all around. When the Digimon Kaiser had first appeared, the veterans of 1999 had never suspected his identity, despite knowing what had happened in August of 2000.

They had lost track of Ken by then, had fallen out of touch. Part of that was a result of Ken’s growing introversion since Ryo’s disappearance. Koshiro felt… well, he felt guilty. Maybe that was why none of them had reminded him. They should have been there for him, and made sure that he was alright, but they didn’t, and the Kaiser had been born.

The beeping of Koshiro’s computer recalled him back to the present. Gennai had responded.

_Gennai: Hello, Koshiro. What can I help you with?_

Koshiro typed back, recounting what he had heard at second hand about Ken’s nocturnal visitor, and asking if there had been anything odder than usual happening in the Digital World.

_Gennai: If I had heard of anything strange, I would have told you all immediately. Currently there has been nothing happening out of place besides the earthquakes which we have been investigating._

Koshiro thought this over, giving Gennai time to add,

_Gennai: Keep me up to date with what is happening in your world. Rest assured that I will do the same._

_Koshiro: Yes, of course, Gennai-san._

And so they were left with nothing. Koshiro didn’t have the heart to tell the others of the disappointment just yet. He was still sitting at the computer an hour later when the familiar beep told him of another incoming message. It was Gennai again.

_Gennai: I spoke too soon. Bring up the Digital World map._

Koshiro did so, and stood up suddenly, almost knocking his chair over. The entire screen was a white grid, as it should have been, but it was flawed. A single square had turned black.

“This is… impossible. It can’t mean…” But with a few clicks of the mouse his suspicions were confirmed.

_Koshiro: Gennai-san, a Dark Tower? But how?_

_Gennai: It appeared mere minutes ago in a town called Arkham. Let the other Chosen Children know and have them see what is happening._

Koshiro assured him he would do so immediately. He fished his D-Terminal out of his pocket, then thought of something and turned back to the computer.

_Koshiro: Gennai-san, you will be looking into this yourself, correct?_

_Gennai: Yes, of course, but right now you must hurry and contact the others._

The D-Terminal flew open, and Koshiro began to type.

***

The town of Arkham had an architectural style the Chosen Children had not previously seen in the Digital World. It was somewhat farther to the west than the region of the Digital World their battles with the Kaiser and Archnemon had taken them to. The gambrel-roofed buildings huddled together in the midst of a valley, surrounded by hills and woods and watered by a nearby river.

It was to this river that the eyes of the children and their partners were drawn as the Digimon raced towards the town in their Armor-level forms, Ken holding Wormmon as he rode behind Daisuke on Lighdramon. At a bend in the river where the distance between banks widened, a small island sat in the midst of the current. It was from this island that the black obelisk, unmistakably a Dark Tower, rose into the sky, which was darkening with gray clouds.

_So it’s true,_ Ken thought grimly, unconsciously echoing the thoughts of all his friends. The last time any of them had seen a Dark Tower was back in February, when Pukumon had brought one to the human world on Valentine’s Day, almost half a year ago. Ken wondered where the Digimon had gotten it from. They must have missed it somewhere in the vastness of the Digital World, but they had not missed this. This was new.

Oikawa had said that the Dark Towers had originated in Dagomon’s ocean. Ken could believe that. In his days as the Kaiser, his mobile base had manufactured the evil structures, and the base itself had certainly been powered by the energy of the Dark World. Ken thought back to the meeting earlier that day. He had suggested the possibility of Demon’s return from that ocean. And—

A sudden chill ran through him. Dagomon’s ocean was not just the source of the Dark Towers. It was where he had gotten his Digivice, the first D-3. The black, the Demonic Digivice. He heard again the mocking voice from last night. _How are you liking our little toy?_

He pushed it from his mind. That line of thinking could wait until later. Right now their job was to take down that tower.

As the Chosen approached, they began to notice that there were shapes surrounding the tower. Some hovered in the air, while others stood in a circle around it on the island. In a moment they were able to make them out better. All belonged to the same species of Digimon, one that the children had never seen before. They were humanoid in outline, the higher ones they could see were sitting on levitating broomsticks, and all wore red with pointed, wide-brimmed hats.

“Witchmon,” Tailmon said, belatedly recognizing them from a description given to her long ago by the much lamented Wizarmon. The team halted indecisively at and above the riverbank, watching the red-clad crowd, who were all facing in their direction. It looked as though they had taken up defensive positions about the Dark Tower, yet there were no Evil Rings attached to them.

As the two groups watched and waited, another levitating Witchmon slid into view from behind the tower, this one wearing black. She raised an abnormally large gloved hand as if in greeting.

“Chosen Children and pets!” she laughed. “Welcome to Arkham. We had not thought you should arrive so soon.”

“Out of the way!” Daisuke shouted. “We’re here to take the tower down!”

The Digimon in black let out a cackle. “I know! And we are here to make sure you don’t.”

“Why?” Ken yelled up at her. “Who do you work for?”

“That’s none of your business. Or maybe it is, but I won’t tell you anyway. So, will you turn around and go home?” The Witchmon scanned the resolute faces before her and laughed again. “I didn’t think so. In that case…” She raised her hand once more, this time joined by all of her companions, and the clouds began to darken above her. The Chosen Digimon started forward again, Lighdramon leaping from the riverbank to the island.

Just as they began to pass over the water, the black-clad Witchmon commenced the attack.

**“Poison Storm!”** She brought her hand down in front of her, and out of the black clouds a heavy rain began to fall. A bright green rain. The Chosen and their Digimon were caught full in the midst of it. And it burned. Where the drops fell on the fur of the Digimon, steam began to rise, and they cried out as the acidic substance ate into their skin. The poison had no effect on non-living material, and their clothing protected the children from the worst of it, but wherever it struck their bare skin or hair they too suffered sharp pains.

The Digimon, though in pain, were not too horribly hurt, and as they heard the cries of their partners their first concern became getting the children out of the burning rain. This was easily accomplished for most of them, but not for Lighdramon, who could not retreat mid-jump. He cleared the river, but was in too much pain to manage a perfect landing, and hit the ground shoulder first, throwing him onto his side and spilling Daisuke, Ken, and Wormmon from his back. There was no rain here, and he rose quickly, looking at the grinning Witchmon who ringed the Dark Tower in front of him.

Again the leader of the defenders shook with laughter. “I was expecting my most powerful spell merely to open the fight, not to end it!”

“This isn’t the end,” Lighdramon grunted. She looked down at him.

“It is for you.”

The standing Witchmon raised their hands.


	5. The Sabbat

_“He heard the hushed Arkham whispers about Keziah’s persistent presence in the old house and the narrow streets, about the irregular human tooth-marks left on certain sleepers in that and other houses, about the childish cries heard near May-Eve, and Hallowmass, about the stench often noted in the old house’s attic just after those seasons, and about the small, furry, sharp-toothed thing which haunted the moldering structure and the town and nuzzled people curiously in the black hours before dawn…” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Dreams in the Witch-House”_

**“Baluluna Gale!”** Blades of wind swept towards Lighdramon, who positioned himself between Daisuke and the others so as to take the brunt of the attack. Ken reached for his Digivice. Theoretically, the Dark Tower may not be working, which would allow Wormmon to evolve. But no, there was no reaction from the little machine. The tower was operational.

The remainder of the Chosen watched what was happening from across the river.

“We have to do something, Holsmon,” Miyako said.

**“Red Sun!”** Twin beams leapt from Holsmon’s eyes toward the tower, but as they passed through the neon rain their light began to fade, and before reaching the other side of the storm had disappeared entirely.

On the island, Ken looked up and watched the attack fail. So long as the poisonous storm continued they would be on their own. He glanced back at the lead Witchmon. She had not moved since the rain began. Her arm still stretched in front of her, unwavering.

“Maybe... Lighdramon, aim for the one in black!” The floating red Witchmon heard and tried to maneuver their broomsticks to intercept the attack, but who can move faster than lightning?

**“Blue Thunder!”** The bolts of energy struck the leader with full force. Her arm gave a convulsive spasm, and the rain immediately began to slacken. Seeing their chance, the other Chosen Digimon flew forward once more, unleashing their attacks at various red Witchmon, with the exception of Pegasmon, who shot directly upwards and spread his wings wide.

“Shooting Star!” The Dark Tower was showered with meteorites. The projectiles pounded into its ebon surface, some passing directly through. The tower shattered, its rubble raining down on the grounded Witchmon, who threw up their oversized hands to shield their heads.

“No!” the black witch groaned. The downed Witchmon got slowly to their feet. “We will retreat,” the leader announced.

“Not until we have some answers,” Takeru corrected her.

“You aren’t leaving, dagyaa,” said Digmon.

“Why are you defending the Dark Tower?” Iori asked. There were some snickers among the red-clad Witchmon, almost drowned out by the black witch’s now familiar cackle. The Chosen tensed, wary of some other nasty trick the Witchmon might have up their sleeves.

“You could not force it from me through torture,” the lead Witchmon answered. “And I know well you don’t have the stomach for that. The Dark One has come, and the day of your destruction approaches. Until next time, brats and pets! **Aquari Pressure!** ”

“ **Aquari Pressure!** ” the others echoed, raising their hands. The air was suddenly filled with water, as if the river had leapt up and exploded in an attempt to engulf the world. Nothing could be seen amidst the blinding spray, and by the time it had dispersed there were only the ruins of the Dark Tower and the Chosen Children and Digimon, gazing around them for signs of the enemy. But the Witchmon were gone.

“Partners,” Lighdramon growled.

Daisuke looked at him, not understanding. “Huh?”

“We’re not pets. We’re partners.”

***

Several minutes later the children and their partners were seated in one of Arkham’s old buildings. It was apparently meant to be a restaurant, but no one was there to attend them. Even after the fight was over, Arkham remained silent. Its inhabitants were not in hiding, as some of the visitors had guessed. They were simply gone. Everything sat in its usual place, and the town looked as though it had been inhabited as recently as yesterday, but the citizens were all gone, as if at the appearance of the Dark Tower they had fled and left all their belongings behind.

The Chosen Digimon were in the process of recovering their strength, meaning they were eating what they had found in storage. They had reverted to their Child level forms, with the usual exception of Tailmon.

Everyone felt a little dejected. A few of the children still had hands and heads mildly stinging from the poisonous rain, but that wasn’t the reason for their mood. They had destroyed the Dark Tower, but done nothing to address the real problem, whatever it might be.

“This sucks,” said Daisuke. “At least last time we knew who we were fighting.”

“That Dark Tower was working,” Ken said to no one in particular. “Wormmon couldn’t evolve.” He thought for a moment. “My D-3 was what made the original towers work, but after I stopped being the Kaiser they stopped functioning. Archnemon and Pukumon were able to bring them back online somehow.”

“Maybe,” Takeru said, “the towers work when anyone is near them who wants them to work. Maybe the darkness in the hearts of some Digimon is enough to activate them.”

“That might be true,” Miyako agreed, “but it doesn’t tell us what’s going on. We don’t know where the Dark Tower came from, or why those Digimon wanted to protect it.”

Ken tightened his grip on his Digivice and looked down, only to meet Wormmon’s gaze. He mustered a slight smile to ease his partner’s worry.

At the same time, Hikari gave Tailmon a little squeeze. The little Digimon understood. It was time to tell them.

“I’m not sure if this will help,” Hikari began, then stopped as their eyes turned towards her. After a moment she resumed. “Last night I had a dream. About the Dark Ocean.” Takeru and Miyako gave little starts, as though they had just remembered something.

“So did I!” Ken exclaimed.

“What did you dream, Ken-kun?” Hikari asked, glad to share everyone’s attention.

“Well… not much. I was just standing on the beach, looking out at the water. What about you, Hikari-san?”

“I was back in the town from the first time I went there.”

“But wasn’t that town destroyed?” Takeru asked. He had done that, in a way, drawing the Airdramon’s fire.

“It was, but I was there anyway. A man talked to me, but I didn’t see anyone. He said he wanted to welcome me back.” She shivered. Ken looked at her intently.

“What did he sound like?” he asked.

“He… He spoke softly, and calmly, but he seemed threatening in a way.” She searched for a better description, shook her head. “It was a dark voice,” was all she could think to add. Ken thought about his visitor of the previous night. That might be a description of his voice, but if Ken were the one describing it the first thing he would have mentioned was that underlying sense of black humor. Maybe they were not the same person, then.

Takeru spoke up, asking, “Has there been anything else, Hikari-chan? Just the dream? You haven’t started to disappear?”

She nodded.

“That’s all,” Tailmon said. “I’ve been with her ever since, and nothing strange has happened.”

Iori broke the long silence that followed.

“I had a bad dream last night,” he said.

“So did I,” said Takeru.

“Me too,” Miyako said. “What about you, Daisuke?”

Daisuke looked a little confused.

“I don’t think so, but… maybe there was something.” He shrugged apologetically. Everyone thought in silence a while, searching for some way to connect all the puzzle pieces, but none of them were able to find it.

***

The woods west of Arkham were dense and dark. A good many Digimon had gone into that forest and never come out, so that these days the place was generally shunned. And yet as the sun began to set that day, and the shadows grew thick among the trees, a fire began to burn in the forest’s midst. Around it stood the coven of Witchmon. The black-wearing leader stood over the fire, moving her hands in esoteric motions over the flames. It was somewhat early to perform the ceremony, but she figured that it was dark enough, and the message urgent enough to be delivered as soon as possible.

Another of the Witchmon stepped forward, carrying something small, white, and squeaking tightly clutched in her hands. The leader, finished with her maneuvering, reached out and grasped what the other held. She lifted it aloft above the fire, the glow of which revealed it to be a terrified YukimiBotamon.

A dark shape detached itself from the gloom, covered the distance to the fire almost instantly and leaped up toward the squirming Baby Digimon. **“Neko Punch!”** Sharp claws tore through the small white body, which vanished in a cloud of data. The attacker landed next to the fire, a veritable twin to Tailmon, but with night-black fur.

The black Witchmon waited, gazing into the dark beyond the range of the fire’s glow. Eventually she caught a glimpse of something, a pair of eyes reflecting the firelight. There was a flash of teeth below them as the thing in the dark grinned. The Witchmon bowed deeply, avoiding that chilling smile.

“They destroyed the Dark Tower,” the lead Witchmon said.

A chuckle answered her. “Yes, I am well aware!”

“I cannot express—”

“There is no need to. I knew you weren’t up to it. This was… a trial run, let’s say.” Witchmon said nothing. The man laughed at her apparent discomfort. “This has only begun. Now, I suppose you want your new orders?”


	6. The Second Night

_“Death is merciful, for there is no return therefrom, but with him who has come back out of the nethermost chambers of night, haggard and knowing, peace rests nevermore.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “Hypnos”_

Koshiro sat in his habitual chair in front of his laptop. Gennai had had nothing to report. The Arkham Dark Tower had appeared without any warning whatsoever, though there had been a sudden distortion of the Digital World when it came suddenly into being. He likewise had no idea as to where the inhabitants of Arkham had gone, once Koshiro had relayed the news of their disappearance from Iori’s email.

Deciding that complete openness would be the best policy, the six Chosen who had visited Arkham had told the others of their dreams. The old guard recognized Millenniumon from Ken’s descriptions of his nightmares, and tried to remember their own dreams the previous night. Koshiro’s dreams had been largely formless, but no less disturbing than those of the others. He had floated along strange angles and sensed rather than seen the worlds those angles connected, worlds light and dark, Digital or not.

Now night was drawing close once more, and they were apparently no nearer to a solution than they had been since Ken had first told them of his nocturnal visitor. Though few of the Chosen Children had said anything about it, all dreaded a recurrence of the previous night’s experiences. Koshiro could only imagine what Hikari must be going through, and Ken – how must Ken feel knowing that his home was just as easily accessible to physical threats as well as dreams?

How safe were any of the twelve, really? Koshiro did not want to go to sleep. So little had been accomplished. But, there was no other method of investigation open to them at the moment. The enemy would have to make the first move. It was a hard fact to stomach.

***

Similar thoughts were occurring around this time to each of the other Chosen. Their parents had not been told of what was happening; there was worry enough among the children. The burns left by the Witchmon’s poison storm had cleared up once they reentered the human world, and would not be noticed by the adults. Ken had thought about spending the night at one of the others’ apartments, but didn’t like the thought of leaving his parents alone. At the Yagami residence, Taichi said goodnight to his sister with some reluctance. He wanted to believe that dreams, though they may be frightening, could not hurt her, especially with Tailmon right there by her side, but couldn’t quite convince himself completely. Nearby, at the apartment complex he shared with Miyako and Takeru, Iori didn’t want a repeat of his nightmare either. But the night was inexorable, sleep inevitable.

***

Night fell over Tokyo, and once the last rays of sunlight had failed, the Dark Man took to the streets. Even amid the glare of streetlights a shadow seemed to hang about his features, so that one would have to come very close to see more than the glitter of his eyes and the flash of teeth when he smiled.

A close inspection would reveal him to be a foreigner, though his exact nationality would be difficult to guess. When the mercenary, Hiraga Ayaki, had been introduced to him not long ago, he had been struck by the man’s features and unable to place them. The closest he could come was to imagine that if a figure on an ancient Egyptian wall painting had come to life and clothed himself as a modern man of the world, he would very much resemble this person that Hiraga’s employer, Sato Katsu, referred to only as the Dark Man. And yet despite his foreign appearance, the man’s Japanese was perfect, idiomatic, without a trace of accent, as though he had lived in the country all his life.

As he walked along the sidewalks, people approaching him would often cut across the street almost without realizing they did so, and for no reason they could afterward remember. Others, who did not bother to cross the street, or resisted the unusual urge to do so, might pass by him and feel a chill as though they stepped quickly in and out of a freezer. Those who caught his mirthful eye might suddenly feel the beginnings of a headache.

Eventually he would turn off the main streets and wander through shadowy parks and alleyways, occasionally looking up at a darkened window in an apartment complex, in which a sleeper might start to groan in the throes of nightmare. Last night he had visited Ichijouji Ken while Sato, who had called the Dark Man by name as the powers of darkness mobilized, made his first foray into the dreams of Yagami Hikari.

Things had begun well. The first Dark Tower had been destroyed, but there would be others. So many others. The forces of evil had gathered in three worlds, ready for the last battle, the final push that would plunge the human world and the Digital World into never-ending darkness. And so the Dark Man strode grinning through the night.

***

Darkness and stench, then the tall wooden fences swam into view. As she had feared, the dream was repeating itself. Hikari stood still this time, waiting to see if the calm, cold voice would return. So far the only sound she heard was the monotonous pounding of the waves on the beach. But then she did hear something else. Footsteps, coming from the other side of a fence. She looked in that direction. Something was moving on the other side of the barrier, on which hung a sign written in Digi-Letters, which she could not read.

The sounds were heavy, wet and measured. Hikari had only heard that sort of sound once before, and knew that no human feet produced it. She backed instinctively away from the fence. As the sounds reached a point directly across from her, the footsteps stopped and a new, softer but no less disgusting sound replaced them. The thing was sniffing. It could smell her.

She burst into a run then, racing as fast as her feet could carry her down the alley formed by the two fences, looking back once, half expecting to see a black, slippery form pulling itself over the top of one side. Eventually she came to an opening in the left of the two fences, and passed through it so as to be somewhat farther from the source of the sounds. A dilapidated house stood before her, the windows like the empty, staring eyes of dead fish.

Hikari paused to catch her breath. Like all the other buildings in this horrific town, the house seemed to be deserted. She leaned back against the fence, her heart still pounding fiercely. She focused on the house, looking from one window to the next and seeing no sign of habitation. Soon, however, movement caught her eye as the front door began to swing slowly inward. Too exhausted to run, Hikari watched it open. And a voice spoke from the building’s dark interior.

“I am very pleased you could join us again, Yagami-san,” the voice she had expected from the beginning said. “Will you step inside?”

With an effort she found her own voice.

“No. I won’t stay here.”

“I can’t keep you very long anyway,” the man replied. “Time passes slower here, but you are only dreaming, and must wake up eventually. But you will be back tomorrow night, and the night after, and finally a day will come where you will come here not asleep but awake.”

“Why won’t you leave me alone?” she groaned. “I haven’t done anything to you.”

“Not yet. But your powers are the antithesis of ours, and must be… drowned, if you will.” As the man spoke Hikari heard the wet, slopping footsteps resume on the other side of the fence. There was more than one pair of feet this time. “I see your bridegrooms have found you. Sure you won’t come inside?”

“No!” She began to panic. There was nowhere to go; her only chance was a desperate appeal to the waking world. “Onii-chan! Tail—”

***

“– mon!” Hikari’s eyes opened wide. Tailmon knelt beside her on the bed, one gloved paw shaking the girl insistently.

“Hikari! Good, you’re awake. I’ve been shaking you for—”

And that was as far as the Digimon got before Hikari sat up and wrapped her arms around her cat-like partner.

“Thank you… thank you…” she said through her tears.


	7. Openers of the Way

_“This central symbol consisted of the heads of seven principal Egyptian gods – Osiris, Isis, Ra, Bast, Thoth, Set, and Anubis. But the horror lay in the fact that all seven heads protruded from a common body, and it was not the body of any god heretofore known in myth.” – Robert Bloch, “The Opener of the Way”_

It had been over two years since Gennai had reversed the aging process by separating himself into multiple copies. He still lived in his house beneath the lake, though his clones had had to find their own residences to occupy. With the old castle destroyed, there was no “command center,” so to speak, and for the most part this new generation of Agents worked independently. All were in touch with the Chosen Children, but Gennai himself had the most to do with them, helping Koshiro mostly.

By now it was evident to everyone that a new conflict was about to begin, and for the first time the Agents were considering the creation of a base of operations. Whoever the enemy was, they had considerable resources, and it was possible that they would follow in the footsteps of the Dark Masters and try to eliminate the Agents, which Gennai could no longer produce more of.

Not needing to sleep, Gennai watched throughout the night, occasionally contacting the other Agents to see if there was anything new to report, and monitoring constantly for new Dark Towers or more of the mysterious earthquakes. His vigil was rewarded – though “rewarded” perhaps wasn’t the right word – at around five in the morning.

Dark energy suddenly swept across the Digital World. In its wake, at least ten Dark Towers had appeared on the map, in the same general area, but not right next to each other. The Chosen Children would have to be alerted, but Gennai’s first order of business was to try and trace the distortion to its source. No luck. After the appearance of the towers, all trace of the energy that brought them into existence seemed to have vanished.

As he composed an email for Koshiro, Gennai thought about what it might mean. After the defeat of BelialVamdemon, Oikawa Yukio had given his life to restore the damage done to the Digital World. He may have hoped also to have defended it from future intrusions by the Dark powers, but one life may not have been enough. Somehow, the emanations of the Dark World were finding their way back into the Digital World. Who could be responsible? There was no Apocalymon or Millenniumon to point to this time.

***

The Chosen Children all suffered from some degree of drowsiness that morning. For some, sleep had been long in coming, and what sleep they had gotten was far from restful. Nevertheless, they set out into the Digital World immediately upon receiving Gennai’s message. This time the Dark Towers were located some distance west of Arkham, each standing on a hilltop just out of sight of all the others.

 _Be careful,_ Koshiro had mailed Iori. _With the towers being so close to Arkham you may run into resistance like you did yesterday._ As the group approached the nearest of the towers, however, they saw no sign of any Digimon, much less an enemy. Wormmon tried evolving again, and again could not manage it. The Dark Towers were functional, but apparently unguarded.

Within very little time the Armor-level Digimon had rid the area of the structures. Just as they finished with the last, Iori’s D-Terminal gave another beep. The others quieted down as he read. He stared at the screen for a few moments, then jerked his head up quickly and looked at them.

“Another group of towers has appeared!”

“Already?” Daisuke said.

“Where are they?” Miyako asked.

“According to Koshiro-san, the new group is located at least 400 kilometers north of here.”

“Give us a break,” Miyako moaned. “It’ll take us all day to get there.”

“We could return to the human world and open a different gate,” Hikari suggested.

“Or use Imperialdramon,” Ken said. “I’m not sure if he could resist the Dark Towers’ influence, but he could at least get us within range of them.”

Daisuke was torn somewhat between jumping at Hikari’s idea and having his Digimon partner be the one to save the day. Said partner helped him decide.

“Why don’t we do that, Daisuke? I haven’t been Imperialdramon in forever!”

Ken turned to Wormmon.

“Feel up to it?” he asked. The larval Digimon inclined his head.

“It’ll be good to help out again,” Wormmon said. Daisuke and Ken raised their Digivices just before Iori’s D-Terminal beeped again.

“Now what?” Daisuke asked, lowering the D-3.

Iori’s grip tightened on the machine.

“It’s happened again! This time the Dark Towers appeared about the same distance away, but towards the south.”

The group’s optimism began to give way to unease.

“We’ll have to split up,” Takeru said, not looking as though he relished the thought.

“It may be a trap,” Hikari warned. The Digimon did not appear to be daunted.

“If Adult-level Digimon like Witchmon are the best they can do, there should be no problem,” Hawkmon observed.

“I think we can do it,” Tailmon agreed, and the other partners nodded enthusiastically. Then the D-Terminal received another message. Iori read it grimly, though he already knew what it would say.

“A third bunch,” he said, “West this time.”

“We’ll split into three groups,” Takeru said, “Jogress partners together. Are you okay with that… Ken? Daisuke?” He felt a little bad asking, and hoped neither Ken nor Wormmon would be offended. Wormmon could Armor Evolve like the other five, using the Digimental of Kindness, but his evolved form, Pucchiemon, was not a Digimon who specialized in combat.

“We’ll be okay,” Wormmon said, and the issue was settled. And so they started off. Daisuke and Ken would ride Imperialdramon to the towers in the west, while the other four pairs of partners would return to the human world and reenter the Digital World closer to their targets (Takeru and Iori to the south, Hikari and Miyako to the north). Within a few minutes, the hills west of Arkham were empty of life once more.

***

“Their optimism is… inspiring,” the Dark Man said from his seat in the corner of the room. The place was full of shadows, though a normal observer may have found this comforting if only because those shadows helped to obscure the scenes carved into the walls of the large chamber. At the front of the room, where he sat watching the interactive map of the Digital World, Sato Katsu only nodded, not agreeing with the false sentimentality of the Dark Man’s statement but rather with the sense of a hopeless situation which it implied.

“The guardians are in their places,” Sato informed him. “What do you think of my choices?”

“I’m not here to tell you how to do your job,” the Dark Man remarked. “I’m just here if you need some favors. Let’s just see how this goes, alright?” He was silent for a moment, watching the colored dots on the screen which represented the Chosen Children, then turned to the Digimon who stood nearby. “Are you tired, O Opener of the Way?”

Anubimon was very tired. To open one portal to the Dark World took energy enough, but thirty in rapid succession? But he knew better than to say this out loud, and merely shook his head. Sato continued to watch the screen. Yes, things were going as planned. Not the slightest setback.

And yet something was bothering him. He thought of all the times when these children and their predecessors had been so overwhelmed and outmatched that their destruction seemed inevitable. But they always pulled through. Could they now? He had made some progress in Yagami Hikari’s dreams, but not nearly what he had hoped for. He pushed the thoughts from his mind, tried to regain that sense of inevitable victory.

“We await the time…” he murmured under his breath. “We await the time…” And that time was coming.


	8. Trouble in the West

_“Moloch and Ashtaroth were not absent, for in this quintessence of all damnation the bounds of consciousness were let down, and man’s fancy lay open to vistas of every realm of horror and every forbidden dimension that evil had power to mold.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Horror at Red Hook”_

Gennai had informed Daisuke and Ken the first day Paildramon evolved to Imperialdramon that their partner’s flight speed allowed him to circle the earth in half an hour. Several hundred kilometers was nothing by comparison, but had he flown full speed they were apt to overshoot the Dark Towers by quite some distance. Even keeping to a slower pace, however, the journey was quick, and they arrived at the first of their assigned towers well in advance of the other two groups.

Once Imperialdramon had come within several kilometers of the target area, he began to slow, and not intentionally. The blue light which surrounded Daisuke and Ken began to pale.

“Imperialdramon! Are you okay?” Daisuke yelled over the rushing wind.

“I’m losing strength. It must be the Dark Tower…” The massive Digimon began to sink slowly towards the ground. Eventually the dragon’s claws touched down. Daisuke and Ken sat upon his broad back, feeling him quiver beneath them.

“Imperial…dramon…?” Daisuke asked, but received no answer. Ken thought that he understood what was happening.

“I think he’s fighting,” Ken said. “Trying not to revert to Child level.” He was correct, and the battle was a losing one. Within minutes Imperialdramon had dissolved in the golden glow which reshaped itself into V-mon and Wormmon. The humans were deposited as usual on the ground beside them.

“Guess we’ll have to walk, Daisuke,” V-mon said.

“Yeah." They tried taking stock of their surroundings. They had landed in an open field, but ahead, the way towards which the towers lay, woods grew ever thicker as they approached the horizon. They could also see that it was a hilly area into which they were headed.

What they were unable to see from the field was the great number of deep ditches and ravines which marred the ground. They had wandered through the dense woods for some time, turning back in places and catching no sight of a Dark Tower, when Daisuke decided he had had enough of it.

“Come on, V-mon. We can use Fladramon here. Like in that city with all the Guardromon, remember?” V-mon did remember, and was more than ready to try it again.

**“Digimental Up!”**

**“V-mon, Armor-Evolve! … Burning Courage, Fladramon!”**

Fladramon took a moment to secure Daisuke with one arm. “We’re going to take a look around. Be right back.” So saying, he crouched and leapt straight up into the air, keeping his head down so as to protect his eyes as he crashed through the branches above.

That first leap brought Fladramon and Daisuke above the trees, but the tall, domelike hills prevented them from seeing what might lie to the west. Landing about where he had jumped from, Fladramon turned to Ken and Wormmon.

“Can’t see any Dark Towers from here. Should we go on?”

“Yes, we’ll be fine,” Ken assured him. “Daisuke, see if you can find a way for us to get through on foot.”

And then the pair was gone again, Fladramon bounding from treetop to treetop as he progressed up the slope of the hill. Ken leaned up against a nearby tree trunk and prepared to wait for their return. Wormmon jumped up into his arms, and for a while the two of them sat there silently.

“Ken-chan?” Wormmon said at last, breaking the silence.

“Mm?”

“Did you dream last night?”

Ken thought for a while, debating. Eventually:

“Yes, I did.”

“What did you dream about?” There was another moment of silence.

“I dreamed about you, Wormmon. The time that we spent together. But,” his voice trembled slightly, “not about the good times. About the times I – hit you, and – insulted you.” Ken pulled his D-3 out of his pocket and examined its black surface. “I didn’t deserve you back then, Wormmon. I’ve spent all this time trying to make up for the terrible things I did. But… I don’t know that it will ever be enough.”

Wormmon began to speak, to tell his partner that he had done more than enough, to reassure him that the color of his Digivice no longer reflected his soul, when a harsh laugh cut through the silence of the forest.

“I know of only one way for you to pay your debts.” The voice was mocking, arrogant. In a moment Ken and Wormmon were on their feet, scanning the green shadows of the woods with their eyes. “Don’t you want to hear it?” the voice continued.

“Show yourself!” Ken demanded. The completeness of the forest’s silence, broken only by the voices of its occupants, was what saved Ken’s life. He heard the click of shoes on the roots of the very tree he had been leaning against, and an odd clicking sound, such as a firearm might make. Someone was behind the tree, and for whatever reason Ken’s first reaction to the knowledge was to crouch as low to the ground as possible. No sooner had he done so than the tree appeared to explode from the inside, spraying bark in every direction as bullets shredded it.

“Come on, Ichijouji-chan. If you hadn’t moved so quick I might have put an end to all your guilt right away.” The smoke from the assailant’s weapon began to disperse as the top of the ruined tree fell harmlessly. Ken caught a glimpse of a humanoid figure. Then he had his Digivice in his hand.

**“Digimental Up!”**

***

Daisuke and Fladramon were standing atop the hill, looking out at a hilly, wooded landscape, several of the lower hills crowned by Dark Towers, when they heard the shots behind them.

“Ken! We have to get back.”

“Hold on,” Fladramon said. He propelled himself forward, leaping clear of the trees and dropping to the smoking woods below.

***

Their attacker had the appearance of an oddly dressed human being if one ignored the vestigial bat wings protruding from his back. A bestial horned mask covered his eyes. “Before I end you, it may interest you to know that I am Astamon, a noble of the Dark World, handpicked to be your welcome today. Now that we’re familiar, I think I’ll finish this before your buddies get back.” The Digimon slid a knife out of his sleeve and charged towards Pucchiemon.

“ **Love and Fire!** ” the fairy Digimon cried, swinging his burning, heart-shaped antennae into Astamon’s path. The demonic Digimon had expected this, however, and slid beneath the attack, thrusting his spiked shoe out like a piston.

**“Maverick!”** The kick connected, and Pucchiemon fell backwards, his pudgy stomach ripped open by the spikes. Before Ken could think, Astamon’s gloved hands had gripped his shirt collar, and he was pulled aloft. “Let the healing begin,” the demon grinned.


	9. Ambush in the North

_“The cat is cryptic, and close to strange things which men cannot see. He is the soul of antique Aegyptus, and bearer of tales from forgotten cities in Meroe and Ophir. He is the kin of the jungle’s lords, and heir to the secrets of hoary and sinister Africa. The Sphinx is his cousin, and he speaks her language…” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Cats of Ulthar”_

Shortly after returning to the human world, Hikari and Miyako had reentered the Digital Gate, emerging in the Digital World a considerable distance north of where they had left it. The land in which they and their partners found themselves was best described as desolate. There was little in the way of plant life, even grass, the ground generally being an odd combination of sandy and soggy. Shallow creeks meandered through the landscape, the monotony of which was further broken by occasional train tracks.

According to the information they had received, the Dark Towers were located nearby, though they could not see any from where they stood, and before going any farther the two Digimon Armor evolved to Holsmon and Nefertimon. They flew northwest, passing over a low rise only to see that the other side descended sharply into a deep valley. Nestled in the valley were a number of ramshackle buildings apparently forming a mid-sized town, though there were no signs of life.

“You think they could be hidden in one of those tall buildings?” Miyako asked, pointing to one of several large buildings resembling decrepit churches. During the Digimon Kaiser’s reign, both of them had seen Dark Towers cleverly disguised as other structures, such as Starmon’s gallows and the “lighthouse” overlooking the Dark Ocean.

“Maybe,” Hikari answered, “but I think before attacking we should make sure no one is inside.” The two Digimon landed in an open court beside the nearest of the church-like buildings. It would be difficult to land in the streets, which were excessively narrow. Still they caught no glimpse of inhabitants.

“I’ll check this one out,” Miyako volunteered, pointing to the building. “You guys want to look at one of the others?”

“Mm-hmm,” Hikari agreed, and headed down the narrow street with Nefertimon following behind her. Nefertimon could sense that her partner’s spirits were higher than they had been for a while. While much of the threat remained mysterious, it made the girl feel good to talk openly to her friends, and to join with them in taking action against the Dark Towers.

***

Miyako approached the building’s rotting door and sighed. “It smells like something died in here.”

“Would you like me to get it?” Holsmon asked.

“No… I guess this is just what my gloves are for.” She gave the door a push with one hand, but it didn’t budge. “That’s strange. You’d think it would just fall down in that condition.” She pressed both of her palms into the wood and pushed hard. This time the door offered no resistance at all and swung wide open. Taken by surprise, Miyako nearly tumbled headlong into the opening.

She was just regaining her balance when a large hand closed around her wrist and jerked her forward into the dark.

“Miyako-san!” Holsmon called, charging forward to his partner’s aid. But just as he reached the door—

**“Baluluna Gale!”** A wall of wind whipped out of the aperture and struck him full in the face, temporarily stunning him into immobility. “You’ll stay there,” the Witchmon said, stepping forward so he could see that her gloved talons were closed around Miyako’s neck. Though Holsmon didn’t dare take his eyes from the sight, he heard doors opening stealthily behind him. Hikari had been right. This had been a trap. “Don’t say a thing,” the attacker continued. “No alarm, or I’ll tear her throat out.”

***

Hikari was pretty sure she remembered the location of another of the tall structures, but had trouble finding her way through the maze of alleys. Occasionally she would turn around and ask Nefertimon’s opinion on which direction to go. She was just passing by another street opening up on her right when she heard the sound of a tin can starting to roll. Since there was no wind, she could only assume that she had found an inhabitant of the town after all.

Looking to her right she saw a small dark shape which crouched near three steps leading to the door of one of the old buildings. As she watched, it sprung into the center of the street, knocking the can it had been toying with into a gutter. There was something oddly familiar about the creature’s shape and movement, and upon realizing why the girl turned abruptly. Nefertimon was there, quietly watching. “Hikari?”

“It looks,” she started to say, then turned back and stopped when she saw the new Digimon staring back at her. At first Hikari had attributed its dark appearance to its shadowy surroundings, but now could see that it was indeed black in color. It looked remarkably like Tailmon, though its luminous eyes were not Tailmon’s bright blue, but rather a feral yellow. Hikari stood, bemused. Nefertimon, on the other hand, didn’t like the looks of the thing.

“Who are you?” the white Digimon asked.

“BlackTailmon,” it purred, getting to its hind feet and performing a little bow.

“What are you doing here? Where is everyone?”

BlackTailmon cocked her head.

“Everyone’s gone. They left long ago.”

“But you’re here,” Hikari said. “Did they leave you behind?”

BlackTailmon smiled and shook her head.

“I came to find you. We all did.” And so saying, she turned and raced down the street. Hikari and Nefertimon instinctively made to follow, but had gone no more than a few steps before something dropped from the rooftops above.

“Hikari!” Nefertimon saw the newcomer’s claws, and acted fast, batting her partner to the side with one of her large paws just before those claws lashed out.

**“Vampire Dance!"** The claws slashed across Nefertimon’s face, drawing blood. Before she could issue a counterattack, the assailant leaped high and landed on her back, gouging her deeply before sliding off and landing behind the Chosen Digimon.

“Nefertimon!” Hikari screamed, alarmed at the red gashes in her partner’s body. There was no room for Nefertimon to turn around, and any minute she expected another attack from the rear. Releasing the power of the Digimental, Nefertimon reverted to Tailmon. Disregarding the danger, Hikari ran up to her partner. “Are you okay, Tailmon?”

“Yes,” the Digimon answered. “But where’s the enemy?” They looked up to see their attacker standing calmly in the intersection of the two alleys. This Digimon was obviously female, though she resembled a cat just as much as she did a human, with a cat’s ears and claws, and two cat-like tails.

“Who are you?” Hikari asked, anger building within her.

“Bastemon,” the Digimon replied. “A Perfect-level Digimon, I’ll have you know.”

“Perfect level?” Tailmon said under her breath, then, to Hikari: “We need to Jogress Evolve.”

“There’s no chance of that,” Bastemon said, having overheard the remark. “My friends should have taken care of the other two by now. You’re on your own.”

“Miyako-san?”

“Don’t worry, Hikari,” Tailmon said. “Let me evolve again, and we’ll go and help them.” Tailmon reasoned that if the town really were empty except for the enemy, there would be no reason not to tear the place apart in order to escape and help their friends. Hikari nodded.

**“Digimental Up!”**


	10. Ritual in the South

_“I knew we must have passed down through the mountain and beneath the earth of Kingsport itself, and I shivered that a town should be so aged and maggoty with subterraneous evil.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Festival”_

A ways southeast of Arkham, Takeru and Iori found themselves at the foot of a high clifftop jutting out over the sea. There was no path leading to the top, and the way was choked with high grass, weeds, and trees. They could see that it was crowned with a Dark Tower. To one side of this sea cliff was a small town built on hilly land, its streets narrow and shadowy like those of Arkham. The tops of several additional Dark Towers could be seen above the town’s roofs.

“We’re in the right place,” Takeru observed, his face stony.

Iori glanced at him, his own expression studiedly inscrutable. Takeru had been subdued lately, not as cheerful as typical, but that was only to be expected. Iori was looking for anger, the prequel to the rage he had seen during the creation of Chimairamon and the battles with BlackWarGreymon. There was no sign of it yet.

But although Iori couldn’t detect it, it was there. Takeru’s dream on the second night had been different from the first night’s visions. Both had been threats against someone he cared about. The second dream had been about his partner. Angemon had been in pain. Something terrible was happening, but he wasn’t allowed the relief of deletion. There had been someone standing nearby. This second being Takeru could not imagine clearly, not that he had tried very hard, being so focused on his agonized partner. He only sensed that this second person was both dark and… what? Suffering too, Takeru sometimes thought, but could not be sure.

“What should we do, dagyaa?” Armadimon asked.

“Should we split up?” Patamon wondered.

“I think it would be better to stay together,” Iori said. Takeru, looking at his partner, nodded his agreement.

“We’ll destroy the one on the cliff first,” he said.

***

“Looks like there are no guards here, either,” Pegasmon observed as he and Digmon brought the cliff’s Dark Tower down.

“Be careful, anyway,” Takeru said. Raising his voice, he called out to Iori and Digmon below. “Let’s drop down to the town. I can see four other Dark Towers from here.”

Pegasmon dived and Digmon jumped from the side of the cliff, his wings slowing his descent. Once they got closer to the town they could see that it was apparently in much the same condition as Arkham: recently inhabited but mysteriously abandoned. _Where could everyone have gone?_ Takeru wondered. The image of the previous night’s dream came to him.

**“Gold Rush!”**

**“Silver Blaze!”**

Within minutes the town was clear of Dark Towers.

“Are there any more?” Iori wondered. He pulled out his D-Terminal. The device had a function which tracked distortion in the Digital World. A single Dark Tower did not cause a great enough distortion for the D-Terminal to pick it up, but it could reveal the location of a group of them. And according to the D-Terminal, there was still a group here.

“That’s odd,” said Takeru, who was looking at the same thing. Iori thought for a second.

“Could they be underground?”

“That’s probably it, but how do we find them?” Takeru said. After a moment’s silence he thought of a possible solution. “Do you think one of these hills is hollow? Maybe there’s an entrance somewhere.”

“I could dig into it, dagyaa,” Digmon suggested.

“No,” Iori said. “We don’t want to cause a cave-in.”

They would have to scour the town in order to find it, but weren’t in any particular hurry (though everyone had a vague wish to get done with the task at hand in case the others should need them).

They decided to try first the largest of the hills, which stood at the center of the town. It was crowned with a small graveyard, and they were lucky enough to find the entrance they were looking for. One of the graves yawned open. Graves in general were something of an odd thing to have in the Digital World, where nothing except fish left a body behind after death. This one, however, actually served a purpose. There were stairs leading down into the earth, the walls of the stairway dimly lit at intervals by electrical torches with no visible power source.

“It doesn’t look like a very nice place,” Armadimon said.

“I wish our evolved forms could fit down there,” said Patamon.

“Dagyaa.”

“We don’t have a choice,” Takeru said, grimacing.

They began the descent. The stairs were wide enough for a human and partner to walk side by side. Takeru and Patamon were in front, Iori and Armadimon in back. The stairs did not descend straightly; there were many twists and turns. They continued walking for what seemed like an eternity, the earthen walls eventually giving way to solid rock.

At last, however, the stairs came to an end. A tunnel stretched before them, eventually ending in an archway leading to a larger room. As the group approached, they began to hear voices. Apparently a number of beings were gathered in the room, which must be of decent size to contain them all. Takeru motioned the others to be quiet, and they stealthily approached, looking into the room.

The chamber was huge, with a domed ceiling. A number of Witchmon stood around a large fire, chanting in a language the eavesdroppers didn’t recognize. Among them the Chosen could see the black-clad leader they had encountered in Arkham. Five Dark Towers stood in a pentagon formation around the fire. As the Witchmon in red continued their ritual, the one in black looked up and gave her usual cackle.

“I know you’re there,” she said. “Here are the Dark Towers you’ve come to destroy.”

The four invaders stepped out into the room, the humans holding their D-3s.

**“Digimental Up!”**

**“Patamon, Armor Evolve!…Soaring Hope, Pegasmon!”  
“Armadimon, Armor Evolve!...Steel Knowledge, Digmon!”**

Even as the Digimon began to glow with the light of evolution, however, the five Dark Towers began to give out a cold blue light of their own, and the fire sunk low. A symbol traced itself in the air in blue flame, something like a five-pointed star with an eye in the center. As the symbol faded, a form materialized in the center of the room, hovering just above the dying flames. The features were indistinct, but they could tell that it had bat-like wings, and two horns like those of a ram.

“I will be your opponent,” it said. Takeru and Pegasmon gaped in horrified amazement. They recognized that rasping voice. Devimon had once killed Takeru’s partner, but the owner of this voice had, in a way, killed human and Digimon both.

“Takeru-san?” Iori looked at his friend, wondering why he didn’t act.

Eventually Takeru found his voice, speaking not to Iori but to the thing over the fire.

“Who are you?” The creature nodded before replying.

“I am Mephismon, formed from the surviving data of Apocalymon. I have forgotten much, but I remember you, the Chosen Children. I sense that I have been called out of the dark to destroy you. This I will do.”

“Apo…calymon?” Iori had heard the name before, and could hardly believe what he was hearing. Takeru had recovered somewhat by now, and was resolved. Whether or not it was truly the ghost of Apocalymon didn’t matter. What they had to do was unchanged. The situation looked grim, but they were used to that by now.


	11. Tradeoff

_“When a rise in the road brings the mountains in view above the deep woods, the feeling of strange uneasiness is increased. The summits are too rounded and symmetrical to give a sense of comfort and naturalness, and sometimes the sky silhouettes with especial clearness the queer circles of tall stone pillars with which most of them are crowned.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Dunwich Horror”_

Astamon lowered his right hand, raising Ken still higher with his left. The right hand took hold of his knife once more. Pucchiemon managed to raise himself to one knee, though his stomach pained him incredibly. He didn’t think he could manage to stand, and wasn’t close enough to Astamon to use Love and Fire again. Instead, with one hand clutching his stomach, he pointed his finger at the demon.

**“Heartener Beam.”** The pointing finger glowed, and a thin ray of light shot through the air towards Astamon. The beam was not an offensive weapon; its purpose was to drain Astamon’s fighting spirit, though Pucchiemon doubted that were possible. The beam found its target. Ken watched Astamon’s smile fade, and felt the grip on his collar loosen, the gloved hand letting him fall to the ground. Astamon shook his head as if to clear it.

“Won’t work,” Astamon said. “Won’t work. But I am feeling a little more magnanimous now, so I guess I’ll do you a favor and make this quick.” Before he could make good on his threat, however, there came the crash of cracking branches and a thud as Fladramon landed.

**“Knuckle Fire!”** The flaming projectiles combined into one as they flew, and scored a direct hit, Astamon bursting into flames. Ken scrambled to his feet and ran to his wounded partner.

“Are you all right, Pucchiemon?” he asked. Pucchiemon nodded.

“I’ll be okay,” he answered. “If only I could evolve to Stingmon…”

Astamon grunted in annoyance and shook off the flames.

“That won’t work either,” he said. He turned to face Fladramon.

“Ken!” Daisuke called as he ran over to join his friend.

“Pucchiemon’s hurt,” Ken said when the other boy reached him. “He can’t fight like this. If he had another form—”

Daisuke’s face lit up as an idea came to him.

“He does!” he exclaimed, and held out his D-Terminal towards Ken. Ken understood. Back in February all of them but Ken had used the Digimentals of others in the fight with Pukumon. V-mon had used Takeru’s Digimental of Hope to become Sagittarimon. Now Daisuke was suggesting that they try the same strategy again.

“We don’t know what will happen,” Ken began to protest, but Daisuke’s face was determined, and he held the D-Terminal out unwaveringly.

“Here, then,” Ken said, reciprocating by handing Daisuke his own D-Terminal. Daisuke looked to his partner, who was parrying the thrusts of Astamon’s knife with his claws, sparks flying at each collision.

“Fladramon, come back!” With a glance his partner understood, and leaped back to the other three before the two Digimon released the power of the Digimentals, reverting to V-mon and Wormmon. It was time.

**“Digimental Up!”  
“Digimental Up!”**

**“V-mon, Armor Evolve!...Kangaroomon!”  
“Wormmon, Armor Evolve!...Shadramon!”**

They stood before their respective partners, a large kangaroo equipped with boxing gloves, and a great winged insect whose armor bore flame patterns. Ken could not have hoped for a better outcome.

“Ken,” Daisuke said. “Destroy the Dark Towers. We’ll hold this guy off until you get back.”

Ken didn’t like the idea of leaving them behind, but he could see Daisuke’s logic.

“Got it. Come on, Shadramon!”

Shadramon hooked his arms around his partner and took off, breaking through the treetops and taking to the sky.

“That won’t do,” said Astamon. He walked calmly back over to the tree he had destroyed, and pulled from behind its stump a massive submachine gun. “They can’t run,” he explained conversationally. “My bullets will seek them out.”

Kangaroomon bounced forward, but Astamon threw his knife, which embedded itself in his opponent’s arm. As Kangaroomon stopped in pain, and Daisuke ran forward to help remove the blade, Astamon pointed his gun up at an angle.

“ **Hellfire!** ” Astamon shouted, emptying the entirety of his clip into the air. “Now for you,” he said, tossing the empty gun aside.

***

Ken and Shadramon heard the rattle of the submachine gun behind them, and though they said nothing they both hoped that Daisuke and Kangaroomon would be all right. Ken looked back and saw bright flashes in the sky behind them.

“They’re following us!” he exclaimed. Shadramon thought quickly.

“Sorry, Ken-chan,” he said, and before Ken could respond, Shadramon flew over a patch of treeless land and dropped his partner to the grassy earth.

“Shadramon!” Ken screamed, as the Digimon darted towards the Dark Tower-infested valley below, and Astamon’s bullets buzzed angrily over the human’s head in pursuit of the insect Digimon.

***

Shadramon, unencumbered, put on greater speed, and dove towards the first of the Dark Towers crowning the lower hilltops. He dared not pause to unleash his attack until he had lost those homing bullets. He was fast, and they did not move with as great a velocity as normal bullets, but they were gaining. The first tower was on his left, and as he neared it he quickly dodged in that direction to put it on his right. The bullets behind him tried their best to follow, but a few could not avoid slamming into the Dark Tower, which disintegrated under their impact.

Shadramon lined himself up with the second of the towers. Though no longer Pucchiemon, he was not fully recovered from the wounds that form had sustained. He would have to do this quickly, before he wore out and was brought down.

***

“Jumping Blow!” Kangaroomon leaped towards Astamon, boxing glove out in front of him. The demon was hit directly in the face, and his head was jerked halfway around by the impact. Slowly, he turned to face his opponent once more, his features dark with rage. He raised his own fists.

***

Ken watched, agonized, as the red form of Shadramon flitted among the hills. The bullets were apparently still following him. But every time Shadramon passed a Dark Tower, it crumbled, and soon there were no more left standing. The Digimon turned back towards where he had dropped his partner and flew in that direction, visibly struggling to maintain speed.

The insect approached, diving suddenly as he neared Ken’s position. He hit the ground, hard, just a few yards from where Ken stood. There were flashes in the air as the last remaining bullets aimed themselves downwards to follow their prey, and for an instant Ken was sure his partner would be riddled by them. At the last second, however, Shadramon gave a sort of feeble flitting hop, and the projectiles thudded harmlessly into the ground just inches from his body.

***

Kangaroomon staggered back under the fury of Astamon’s blows. The boxing gloves were able to block many, but nowhere near all, and Daisuke’s partner was weakening. Daisuke himself stood with clenched fists, shouting encouragement. Kangaroomon tried to land a punch of his own, but Astamon saw it coming and lashed out with Maverick. Kangaroomon fell, reverting to V-mon as he did so.

“Daisuke… he’s strong…” V-mon groaned.

Astamon brushed off his sleeves and adjusted his clothes. He walked over to where his gun lay, picked it up, removed the drum magazine, and pulled another from one of his deep pockets. Once the gun was reloaded, he turned back towards V-mon, who was being helped to his feet by Daisuke.

“Arrivederci,” he said, and aimed.

**“Spiking Finish!”**

Stingmon plunged out of the air, striking the gun and knocking it from Astamon’s hands. Astamon, his mouth hanging open, looked to the fallen gun, then at Stingmon, who now stood between him and the others.

“Impossible,” he choked. “No one escapes Oro Salmon’s bullets!”

Ken came walking up beside Daisuke.

“The Dark Towers are destroyed,” he said. “We can Jogress.”


	12. Catfight

_“Belfries that buckle against the moon totter,_  
_Caverns whose mouths are by mosses effac’d,_  
_And living to answer the wind and the water,_  
_Only the lean cats that howl in the wastes.”_  
_– H. P. Lovecraft, “The Cats”_

Holsmon remained frozen, not taking his eyes off Miyako and the Witchmon that held her. By the sound of it, three other enemies had been lying in wait in the not-so-abandoned buildings behind him. They stood around him now, but did not attack.

“What are you doing?” Holsmon asked, his voice low.

“We don’t want your friends knowing about the surprise party, so we’ll wait until Bastemon takes care of them before we finish you,” said the Witchmon before him.

“Hikari-chan,” Miyako breathed, only to feel the Witchmon’s grip tighten. _Would she be able to kill me before Holsmon could save me?_ she wondered. Miyako was afraid, of course, but the fear was somewhat overcome by her anger. She had always had a volatile temper, and it served her well at times. Once it had led her to attack a LadyDevimon with a skateboard. Ironically, what had set her off was LadyDevimon’s use of a human shield. _A chance will come,_ she thought, irrationally, but with conviction. _I just have to know when to take it._

***

**“Nile Jewelry!”**

Bastemon sprang into the air and Nefertimon’s projectiles slammed harmlessly into a dilapidated building, knocking large holes in the wall. The cat woman landed on the roof of the building and stood there looking down at them.

“You’ll need to do better,” she said, yawning. Hikari was looking up at her sternly, but Nefertimon’s attention was fixed on the wall she had destroyed.

“Hikari,” Nefertimon whispered, “we can break through to Holsmon and Miyako. Follow me.”

“What are you mumbling about down there?” Bastemon asked, annoyance in her voice. In answer, Nefertimon charged forward, straight through the damaged wall. Hikari followed as quickly as she could, passing into the darkness of the building. Up on her perch, Bastemon blinked, surprised, then realized what their goal must be and turned towards the place where the Witchmon waited. She rushed forward and began to leap from rooftop to rooftop. Those brats would not outsmart her, oh no.

***

Nefertimon looked back over her shoulder to make sure Bastemon had not followed. There was no sign of the Perfect-level Digimon yet, but surely she would not be long in following. Nefertimon then faced in the general direction they had come. Hikari stood beside her partner, a hand resting on the Digimon’s back. The scars made by Bastemon’s claws were gone, but Nefertimon was by no means fully recovered. The Digimon’s breathing was ragged.

“What are we going to do?” the girl asked, glancing at the Nefertimon-sized hole in the wall. Just as she finished speaking, they heard the patter of feet on the roof above them. Bastemon was headed back towards the church.

“Hikari, get on!” Nefertimon cried. Hikari understood. Bastemon was heading towards the others, and they needed to be there first. She climbed atop her partner. “Hang on. **Curse of Queen!** ” Pink light shot from the Digimon’s headdress, effortlessly burning through the walls ahead of them. Nefertimon sped forward, and it took all of Hikari’s strength to successfully cling to her position. Through building after rotting building they charged, the walls melting ahead of them, Hikari ducking to avoid the worst of the debris as they passed.

Suddenly a wall gave way and the one behind it did not burn. This wall was black. Nefertimon slid to a halt, narrowly avoiding crashing headlong into the object. Hikari had closed her eyes in expectancy of the collision. Upon opening them when the collision failed to occur, she saw clearly what they had almost run into.

“A Dark Tower.” But this tower was much shorter than those they were used to seeing. Unless… Her keen eyes looked to where the tower’s ebony surface met the floor. There was a barely perceptible crack between the tower and the floorboards. Part of it had been buried underground. No wonder they had not noticed anything from the air.

 **“Rosetta Stone!”** The heavy slab struck the tower and broke through where the Curse of Queen had failed. The structure crumbled, and the two of them started forward again.

***

In the open court the tableau held until that first crash as the Dark Tower fell. The Witchmon, who had been getting jumpy as they waited by the silent Holsmon, all turned their heads to look in the direction the sound had come from. The Witchmon holding Miyako started, and the girl had her chance. She drove her elbow backwards, into the witch’s gut. Her captor grunted as the wind was forced out of Witchmon’s stomach. Miyako stumbled a little, but managed to get clear, leaving Holsmon with a direct line to the enemy.

**“Udjat Gaze!”**

The witch looked up in time to witness the attack, briefly flashed orange, and stood staring incredulously forward, hypnotized into immobility. The other Witchmon recovered and started toward Miyako, but in no time Holsmon was between them and the girl.

“Climb on,” he said, and once she had a good grip he took to the skies. The Witchmon held up their open hands, and broomsticks materialized in their palms. They mounted and began to ascend. Holsmon meanwhile had alighted on a nearby rooftop. “Stay here,” he said. “I’ll take care of them.”

“You can do it, Holsmon.” Miyako said, jumping onto the flat roof. He leaped back into the air, and saw the Witchmon level with him. They raised their hands simultaneously.

**“Baluluna Gale!”**

But Holsmon had foreseen this, and was prepared to unleash a gale of his own.

 **“Tempest Wing!”** He began to spin, gathering tornado-force winds around his body. The waves of wind the witches had flung towards him were caught up in the whirlwind, only adding to his attack’s power. The Witchmon saw and tried to maneuver their brooms out of his way, but he drove forward too quickly, and all three were engulfed. When the winds had cleared, only Holsmon remained, floating tranquilly. He turned to face Miyako.

“It really has started again,” she said. Holsmon nodded.

“There was no other way,” he said.

***

Bastemon had almost reached her destination by then, but paused when the noise of the Dark Tower’s destruction reached her. It had sounded nearby, and she tried to get an idea of exactly how far her enemies had come. She was ahead, at least. There was nothing to worry about. The Witchmon had the situation in hand, and even if they failed there remained nine other towers, half buried and hidden throughout the town, which would prevent normal evolution.

She started forward again, hopping between buildings until she reached the tall, abandoned church she sought. She leaped upwards and perched on the building’s roof behind the steeple. By now she could hear the sounds of the combat raging above the courtyard. She pulled back her lips into a snarl. Those idiots did mess things up. Bastemon looked around the side of the steeple and watched the demise of her compatriots. A second crash from behind indicated the destruction of another Dark Tower, but she paid no attention. Holsmon now hovered below her. With a running jump… yes.

Miyako was the first to see her, a blur of red and gold which launched itself from the church’s roof. “Holsmon!”

He turned as quick as he could, only to see the flash of his enemy’s claws before they tore into him. Bastemon dropped to the ground, and Holsmon fell with her, landing heavily in the midst of the courtyard. Bastemon touched down like a true cat, uninjured. She looked to her opponent, who was struggling to his feet.

That was when the third explosion sounded, as Nefertimon burst through another Dark Tower and the wall beyond it, and bounded out into the court. Bastemon instinctively jumped upwards, but within the space of a second Nefertimon had spotted her enemy.

 **“Rosetta Stone!”** This time not merely one stone but several in rapid succession shot out of the light emanating from Nefertimon’s collar. Already airborne, Bastemon had no chance of dodging them. A couple missed their mark, but one hit, and the hit was solid. The stone shattered from the impact, and Bastemon fell limply to the earth several yards away from where Holsmon now stood, and lay still.

“Where’s Miyako-san?” Hikari wondered.

“Up here, Hikari-chan!” the other girl called from her rooftop. “That was so cool!” She looked to her partner. “How bad are you hurt, Holsmon? Can you still move?”

“Of – of course,” he answered.

“We’ll keep watch over the enemy,” Nefertimon said. “Holsmon, there are Dark Towers hidden in some of these buildings. The town is abandoned.”

“So we can level it,” he said, finishing the thought. He rose once more into the air, allowing Miyako to mount again.

 **“Red Sun!”** Beams from his eyes began to set the building ablaze. Meanwhile, Bastemon began to stir. She got to one knee and glared murderously at Nefertimon. The white Digimon gazed inscrutably back.

“You should stay here, Hikari,” Nefertimon advised. Hikari got reluctantly to the ground while the two still faced each other, unmoving.

“I… will tear you to pieces,” Bastemon panted. She raced forward, and the other ran to meet her.


	13. Battle in the Crypt

_“Before I was able to struggle or resist he had me up against the black altar, and we fought knee-deep in gleaming bones. I screamed until his hands grasped my throat and choked me. But even as I fought him, my brain battled against its own fears.” – Robert Bloch, “The Brood of Bubastis”_

**“Silver Blaze!”**

Mephismon, formerly stationary, dodged Pegasmon’s beam, landing beside the fire.

**“Gold Rush!”**

Digmon’s drills detached themselves from his body and shot towards the enemy, but before they had hit anything Mephismon raised his hand and blew them from the air like leaves with waves of purple force.

“We need to Jogress,” Pegasmon said. “Somehow we need to destroy those Dark Towers.”

“Too bad,” the lead Witchmon said. “We’re here to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Mephismon leaped forward, clearing the fire, his large hands open. He caught both Chosen Digimon around the neck, tossing Digmon to the side and into one of the stone walls and slamming Pegasmon to the floor.

“I will finish what Apocalymon could not!” he exclaimed, moving his free arm so that his palm faced the Chosen Children. Pegasmon raised his head. His white mane stiffened as he looked up at Mephismon.

**“Needle Rain!”** Pegasmon’s needle-like hairs showered the evil Digimon, but bounced off harmlessly. Mephismon turned his attention from the children to the Digimon on the floor. One of his hands balled into a fist and he brought it savagely down on Pegasmon’s neck. The floor cracked beneath the downed Digimon’s body, and Pegasmon lay still.

“Pegasmon!” Takeru shouted in anguish. Mephismon must be at least at the Perfect level. Only Shakkoumon would have the power to stand up to him.

Digmon was working on this, but a Witchmon stood by each of the Dark Towers, and they had no intention of failing in their duties this time.

“ **Aquari Pressure!** ” one of the witches cried. The floor beneath Digmon erupted in a pillar of water. Caught off guard, he was blasted upwards by the geyser, struck the wall of the domed ceiling and fell back down again as the water subsided. The witches’ laughter rang out at the sight.

Iori had seen what happened to his friend, and stepped forward, hands clenched into fists, unsure of what to do. “You can do it, Digmon.”

Mephismon turned when he heard the boy’s voice, and raised his hand once more. Takeru looked at his motionless partner, then towards Iori. He began to move towards the younger boy, though he knew it was too late.

“Iori-kun, behind you!”

Iori turned and threw his hands up to shield his face, but did not have time to move.

**“Black Sabbath!”** The shadows of the crypt grew darker about Mephismon’s upraised hand, and rushed forward. Takeru was certain he was about to see his friend die. There would be no egg to take care of this time. He cried out wordlessly. There was an explosion of purple where Iori stood. Chips of stone flew up in every direction from the shattered floor. Gradually the darkness cleared.

Armadimon lay there upon the decimated stone tiles. Iori had been thrown aside at the last moment, but he did not move, and Takeru wondered, teary-eyed, if Digmon’s sacrifice had come soon enough. The Witchmon had fallen silent, and had walked unconsciously forward so that they stood side by side. Their eyes gleamed in the darkness, and their faces bore an identical expression of frozen, Cheshire-cat grins. Slowly, Mephismon turned back towards Takeru.

“Now—” he began to rasp, and then stopped. Abruptly he swung his head about, looking all over the room in search of something. His beady orange eyes fixed on a point above him. Takeru, who had no doubt that the battle was over, apathetically turned his gaze in the same direction. What he saw made him gasp with delight.

Pegasmon hovered over the room. His head hung heavily downwards, but his wings were lifted high, and in them there twinkled myriad stars. The sight might have been a portrait of Hope itself. **“Shooting…Star.”**

The Witchmon looked up just as the meteorites began to fall. They lifted their hands to guard, but it was not enough. The projectiles fell amongst the group, and the four red-clad witches disintegrated into data and vanished. The leader staggered for a few moments before falling, her dress, gloves, and hat torn and her face bruised. The five Dark Towers were hit as well; large cracks appeared in places and chunks fell from their surface.

“Enough of this stupidity!” Mephismon shouted. He opened his hands wide at his sides, and his bat-wings extended to their full reach. Purple energy swirled around him. **“Black Cloud!”** Suddenly the air among the Dark Towers was thick, full of swirling darkness.

Pegasmon was caught amidst it, and screamed as his flesh began to burn. He was reminded of the Witchmon’s Poison Storm, but this was worse. The fog was everywhere, burning even the insides of his throat as he inhaled. He wheeled in midair and dropped like a paper airplane to the floor near Takeru, just outside the corrosive cloud. Steam poured off of his body even as he reverted to Patamon.

Mephismon jumped into the air and floated into the middle of the deadly cloud, immune to its effects. Below him the fire had sunk still lower. The room was just bright enough for shadowy outlines to be made out, but nothing more.

“I am Mephismon!” the demonic Digimon yelled. The words reverberated off the walls of the crypt. “I am heir to Apocalymon, and I have no purpose but to destroy the purpose of others! You all die here!” He swept his hands about in the air, and Takeru was blown off his feet to join the other four beings on the floor.

Takeru opened his eyes and tried to see through the darkness and the evil wind. The fire had gone out entirely. And yet, somehow, he _could_ see. The space around him glowed dimly but perceptibly, and he could see another pool of light surrounding the form of Iori near one of the walls. His head clearing, he realized what it must be and felt for his Digivice. The D-3’s screen was glowing.

He thought about what it might mean. The eight Digivices had sealed Apocalymon’s self-destructive explosion four years ago. Could their two D-3s, his and Iori’s, already shown to be more powerful than the original Digivices, possibly aid in the destruction of this last remnant of the abomination that was Apocalymon?

“Still alive!?” Mephismon snarled. Takeru got shakily to his feet. He looked to Patamon. Yes, Patamon was still alive, or he would not still be laying there. Turning his head, Takeru saw that Armadimon apparently still lived too. Iori…?

Iori groaned softly.

“Iori-kun!” Takeru cried out in joy.

Iori slowly forced himself to focus. The light of the D-3 surrounded him, and as he slowly moved the Digivice to his hand, that light touched the unconscious form of his partner, who also stirred. Iori stood. He could see Takeru standing near the room’s entrance, the older boy’s face luminous with a smile. Takeru turned to face Mephismon, and the smile was replaced by grim determination.

“You don’t belong in this world,” Takeru said. Patamon opened his eyes at his partner’s voice and got to his hind feet. “The Dark Towers don’t work anymore. Mephismon, we’re going to finish this here!” Light flooded the chamber. As they had upon entering the room, the boys lifted their Digivices.

**“Armadimon, Evolve!...Ankylomon!”  
“Patamon, Evolve!...Angemon!”**

**“Ankylomon!”  
“Angemon!”  
“Jogress Evolve!...Shakkoumon!”**


	14. Three Jogress Evolutions

_"They lurk as thick as fleas outside the belt of light which surrounds this world. I’ve heard the wise men of Zamora talk of them. Some find their way to Earth, but when they do, they have to take on earthly form and flesh of some sort. A man like myself, with a sword, is a match for any amount of fangs and talons, infernal or terrestrial.” – Robert E. Howard, “The Vale of Lost Women”_

**“Jogress Evolve…Paildramon!”**

By the time the evolution was complete, Astamon had regained some of his composure. “Bravo, bravo,” he said. “You still haven’t given up, then?”

“You’re the one who’s going to lose!” Daisuke said. “Why don’t _you_ give up?”

“Because I am not going to lose,” Astamon replied, back to his usual arrogance. “I have already beaten both Digimon almost to death. Even combined, they stand no chance. Your friend Paildramon is probably ready to collapse.” One of Astamon’s legs swept out. The gun was caught up by the spikes on his shoe, and he kicked it up into the air, where his hand shot out to grasp it. But Paildramon had no intention of letting his enemy fire.

**“Esgrima!”** The spear point slid out of Paildramon’s gauntlet and nearly impaled the demon, who hopped back as his left hand entered a pocket. He drew forth another knife and threw it with deadly accuracy at Paildramon’s exposed stomach.

Paildramon blocked the knife with a quick movement of his hand. He made another jab at the demon, who once again just barely avoided the thrust. Astamon frowned, looking a little puzzled. His enemy certainly did not seem ready to collapse. Ken noticed as well.

“You’ve got him, Paildramon! Keep at it!” Daisuke was yelling.

“Does Jogress revitalize the Digimon as well as combine them?” Ken wondered aloud.

“Maybe,” Daisuke said, turning to his friend with a grin. “We’re going to win, anyway.”

Paildramon charged forward, both blades unsheathed. Astamon leapt backwards, however, and brought Oro Salmon up in front of him.

**“Hellfire!”** Bullets sprayed at an incredible rate. Paildramon held his hands in front of him as a shield, but could do little else as the projectiles struck. He was blown backwards. Daisuke and Ken had to jump out of the way or he would have flattened them. A number of trees broke under his weight.

“Poor fool,” Astamon said, turning to where Daisuke was picking himself up off the ground. “I am a Perfect-level Digimon, but my power is in another class entirely.”

Daisuke gritted his teeth. Ken looked towards their partner.

“I doubt he’ll be getting up,” Astamon said. “I’ve taken down Ultimates with that attack. In fact…” He paused in sudden doubt.

Paildramon was not just getting up. He was evolving.

**“Paildramon, Ultimate Evolve!...Imperialdramon!”**

“Let’s see him take down this Ultimate,” Daisuke grinned. Ken was smiling as well. Hellfire was a powerful attack, but it emptied Oro Salmon of bullets. Astamon put a gloved hand into a pocket, fumbling for a clip… but there wasn’t one.

**“Positron Laser!”** The blue and violet beam tore through the forest, vaporizing trees as it approached its target. Energy surrounded Astamon. He was strong beyond the dreams of most Digimon, but so was Imperialdramon.

“Not me!” Astamon cried. “Not ME!” The spot where he stood erupted into light, white and blinding. And when it faded, Astamon was gone.

 

***

Nefertimon’s paws blocked Bastemon’s first few swipes, but trying to beat the Perfect-level Digimon at hand-to-hand combat was a losing battle. Bastemon was quick, and danced away from the other’s attempted blows. Occasionally she would jab her claws at Nefertimon’s unprotected side. She tried doing the same from the rear, but Nefertimon lashed out with her back paws, an attack Bastemon barely avoided.

The cat woman knew she would have to finish her enemy before Holsmon had destroyed all of the Dark Towers if she wanted to avoid a fair fight. **“Vampire Dance!”** she cried, unleashing a dancing whirlwind of claws.

Hikari watched in horror as the attack ran its course, drawing blood from myriad wounds. If the damage were as bad as it looked, her partner might – horrible! Her mind would not finish the thought. By the time Bastemon was done, Nefertimon had been replaced by Tailmon. Bastemon paused, breathing heavily. She glanced at Hikari and shot the girl a smirk before turning back to her prey.

“You’ve gotten soft,” Bastemon said, addressing Tailmon’s limp body. “Too much time with that little girl. You’re more a mouse than a cat.” She raised a clawed hand and prepared for the killing slash. That’s when the sky darkened above her. Bastemon looked up in time to be struck in the face by Aquilamon’s taloned foot. With the other foot the eagle-like Digimon gently scooped up Tailmon.

“Bingo!” Miyako exclaimed from her perch on the Digimon’s back.

Hikari waited while Aquilamon flapped over to where she stood. Tailmon was deposited into her arms, and was able to give the human a weak smile. Hikari felt her eyes begin to moisten. “Tailmon…”

“Unforgivable,” Bastemon hissed. “Why won’t you die?” She rushed toward the group of friends, claws extended.

“Hikari,” Tailmon said. “It’s time.” Hikari nodded.

**“Aquilamon!”  
“Tailmon!”  
“Jogress Evolve!...Sylphimon!”**

Bastemon had not stopped her charge forward, even when the light of evolution sprang up. Just as she approached the glow she launched herself into the air, intending to land behind her fused opponents and shred them from there. The light faded as Bastemon passed above it. She landed, turned – and was kicked in the stomach.

Sylphimon stood facing her.

“Always trying to attack from behind,” Sylphimon said in Tailmon’s voice.  
“Nothing but a coward,” Aquilamon’s voice agreed.

Bastemon emitted an unintelligible yowl and prepared to launch into another fatal dance. Sylphimon’s hands began to glow with reddish energy.

**“Top Gun!”** The red glow left Sylphimon’s hands. Bastemon froze mid-motion, and then disintegrated into data. The girls turned to each other, and laughed. It seemed strange to do so, but all the tension wanted to flow out of them, and it took the path of least resistance.

 

***

Mephismon opened his mouth wide and roared. The swirling mistiness of the Black Cloud began to move forward, towards Shakkoumon. As the cloud touched him, his body began to steam, but he did not move, and the cloud ceased to advance.

“Fade away!” Mephismon shouted. “Die!” He thrust his open hands forward and the dark, dank wind began to blow. And still Shakkoumon did not move, or give any indication of discomfort. Gradually, imperceptible at first but soon obvious, the Black Cloud was fading. The darkness of the crypt lessened. And in a few moments, it was gone. After Mephismon’s blackness the chamber seemed bright as daylight. Mephismon screamed in rage. The room shook with his anger.

**“Aramitama.”** The twin eye lasers burned into Mephismon, propelling him backwards through the rearmost of the crippled Dark Towers and into the wall of the crypt.

“Leave nothing!” Takeru shouted. Iori looked in his friend’s direction sharply. The Takeru who had smiled at Iori’s revival had been replaced with another, the Takeru with the iron eyes and quivering fists.

Shakkoumon’s attack continued. Mephismon, pinned against the wall of the crypt, began to howl, more in raw rage than in pain.

“Curse you, Chosen Children! Curse you! Curse you! CURSE YOU!” A few more moments, and his body had melted entirely away. The four Dark Towers still standing shattered.

As Shakkoumon split into Tsubumon and Tokomon, the electrical torches lining the walls began to flicker on. The crypt lay in shambles, floors and walls cracked, the ashes of the fire pit scattered around, and the pieces of Dark Towers strewn about the floor.

With the aid of the lights, the Chosen Children were able to see something else: the Witchmon in black. She lay on the floor where she had fallen. The Black Cloud had hovered above her, and not destroyed her, though the combination of its fumes and Pegasmon’s attack had rendered her near death.

Takeru walked over to where she lay and looked down at her. Iori followed, Tsubumon in his arms. Witchmon opened her eyes as they approached. She opened her mouth, but the cackling laugh had become a painful chuckle.

“You won’t win,” she whispered. “Here, yes… but not in the end. They’re after you, Chosen Children. Humans, Digimon, and _worse_ …” She stopped talking, focused once more on breathing.

“Who are they?” Takeru asked.

“Takeru-san…”

“Where can we find them?” Takeru asked, ignoring Iori. His voice was cold. Witchmon whispered again, fainter this time.

“What was it I said yesterday? About torture?” She tried to chuckle, coughed instead. With agonized slowness she raised her hand. **“Poison… Storm…”** Green rain began to fall from nowhere, not with enough fury to be called a storm. This time it fell upon Witchmon. Iori had to turn away. Takeru watched until her program broke and her data vaporized.

“Come on,” Takeru said, putting a hand on Iori’s shoulder. “We need to make sure the others are alright.” He picked up Tokomon, and they began the long climb back to the surface.


	15. The Next Phase

_“Here cosmic sin had entered, and festered by unhallowed rites had commenced the grinning march of death that was to rot us all to fungous abnormalities too hideous for the grave’s holding. Satan here held his Babylonish court, and in the blood of stainless childhood the leprous limbs of phosphorescent Lilith were laved.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Horror at Red Hook”_

The sun was just beginning to set when the last of Arkham’s Witchmon arrived back at that town. After overcoming the effects of Holsmon’s Udjat Gaze, she had noticed that her comrades had been defeated. She had also noticed that even Bastemon had not managed to dispose of the intruders yet. Thus she came to the conclusion that she was no longer needed, and had crept out the back door of the church only to find BlackTailmon waiting for her.

BlackTailmon knew how things stood, and was planning to hitch a ride back to somewhere safer. The two of them had managed to find their way out of the town before Holsmon began to level it and the Dark Towers it hid. At that point, the Witchmon had summoned her broomstick and flown south at top speed.

Witchmon had hoped that the other half of the Arkham coven (at least part of it) and the coven’s mistress would have come back from Kingsport with news of success. No one was there, of course. The town was as silent as it had been since the coming of the Dark Tower, and the meeting place in the woods showed no sign of life.

BlackTailmon seemed not to be much concerned, but groomed herself by the fire as she waited for Witchmon to fetch a sacrifice. Potential sacrifices were drawn from one of the cages kept in a natural cave not far from the meeting place. In them were kept the baby Digimon of Arkham. They huddled quivering at the back of each cage when Witchmon approached, drawing a smile from her.

“You should be glad at least one of us made it back,” she told them, reaching in and grasping the first that came to hand (a Poyomon, it turned out). “At least this way you won’t starve to death.” She held onto the squirming, slippery body with both hands as she moved back towards the fire. “Hold on to this one,” she said, holding the Poyomon out towards BlackTailmon.

The Poyomon tried its best to hop to safety, but BlackTailmon was faster and caught it between her paws. Witchmon began to go through the motions she had seen her leader perform so often before. BlackTailmon waited, every now and then letting go of the Poyomon so as to pounce on it once it had gotten a few feet. “Now,” Witchmon said, at which BlackTailmon’s claws at last put an end to the baby Digimon.

They waited, BlackTailmon standing on all fours like a true cat. The air seemed to grow cooler. The Dark One was not visiting this time. Tonight, a gate was opening in response to the sacrifice. Darkness gathered on the opposite side of the fire. An aperture began to appear in the fabric of space, as it had at the coming of the Dark Tower. The image of what lay beyond rippled and swirled, but they could see that there was a human standing beyond the threshold.

“Come through, both of you,” Sato said. “We’re done in Arkham.”

“The sacrifices—” Witchmon began.

“Will be collected later,” he interrupted frostily. “Come through.”

Witchmon stepped forward hesitantly, and BlackTailmon followed. This particular Witchmon had never been through a portal to wherever it was the human’s organization had its base of operations. Of all the members of the now defunct coven, only the leader in black had ever been there, and she had not spoken about what lay within when questioned.

The pair stepped through the portal, BlackTailmon sniffing the air warily as she came near to it. A strange tingling sensation passed through them, and then they were inside, standing before Sato Katsu. Witchmon looked over her shoulder, and watched as the vision of Arkham’s woods slowly vanished. The dimensional gate had closed. There remained only the large metallic ring which had bounded it.

At the sound of approaching footsteps, Witchmon returned her attention to what lay before her. The place was lit by no apparent light source. The walls and floors were of blue stone in some places, Chrome Digizoid in others. A pair of apelike Hanumon had entered the room. Having come up to Sato, they stopped, as if waiting for something. One of them looked over at Witchmon, but said nothing.

“You are all that remains of the Arkham coven,” Sato informed her. “The Kingsport group was wiped out entirely.”

Witchmon nodded; she had expected as much. But Sato continued. “You’ve failed,” he said.

She opened her mouth to protest, but Sato raised his hand in a gesture for silence.

“Since I have no more use for you, it is only fitting that you share the fate of all Arkham’s other inhabitants.”

Both Hanumon stepped forward and locked their hairless hands around Witchmon’s arms.

“Wait!” she cried out, “What do you mean? What happened to them? Isn’t there—”

“There isn’t,” Sato said flatly. “Take her to Row Five.”

The Hanumon tugged Witchmon insistently forward. She struggled, but in her current position could not use any techniques to her advantage, and the ape men were her superiors physically.

“Wait!” she wailed. “What is – wait!” Her further protests were cut off as the three Digimon passed through a nearby doorway and the arched doors swung closed behind them. By this time BlackTailmon had dropped her pretense of disinterest and was standing on her hind legs, looking up at the human.

“What about me?” she asked.

“You may still prove useful,” Sato said. “I need something small, something that can blend in well and not excite too much curiosity.”

“Blend in?” the cat Digimon asked suspiciously, eyes narrowed.

“It has been a busy day,” he said by way of answer. “While the Chosen Children have been racing around the Digital World risking their lives to destroy a handful of Dark Towers, we have been building steadily. The barrier between worlds grows ever thinner. We now set our sights on the human world.”

“The human world!” BlackTailmon’s eyes widened at the thought. “You want me to go there?”

“Rest assured you will not be alone. For now…” He clapped his hands. A door opened in one wall, and another Hanumon stepped out. “You will follow him to the barracks. Go.”

BlackTailmon was wary after the scene with Witchmon, but followed the ape Digimon out of the room. Once again, the door shut behind them.

Sato Katsu stood still a moment, looking at the door, then turned around and addressed a darkened archway. “Who’s there?”

Anubimon stepped into view, trailing his feathered wings behind him.

“Eavesdropping? Doesn’t the Dark Man have any work for you?”

“I am sorry, Sato-san. I heard that the Witchmon failed. Is Bastemon—”

“Bastemon is deleted, yes. Anything else?”

The jackal-headed Digimon stood a while before replying. Sato could tell that Anubimon’s energy was nearly depleted by how slowly he talked and moved. At last the Digimon spoke.

“You really had no further use for the last Witchmon?”

“There are other covens,” Sato said. “One useless Digimon will not make a difference. Besides, the Witchmon do not know the true gods. They follow the Dark Man, but without knowing why. The future will not be theirs.” He gave Anubimon one of his rare, malicious smiles. “Are you jealous, Anubimon? Of my inventions?”

The divine Digimon solemnly shook his canine head.

“Of course not, Sato-san. I deal with deletion, not with… that.”

Sato smirked again and withdrew through another of the room’s many doors. Anubimon stood alone. He had opened so many temporary gates today that by this time he didn’t feel much like moving without good reason. _A fifth row?_ he wondered dully. Why would they ever need so much? _Maybe they don’t,_ he thought, with an uncharacteristic shiver.

 

***

“Astamon, dead?” Lilithmon asked. “It’s really too bad. He was my kind of monster.”

The Dark Man nodded, his smile broadening.

“How would you feel about avenging him?” he asked in return. “We will be opening a gate to the human world before long. You and your friends might have all sorts of fun.”

A smile crept slowly over Lilithmon’s face.

“Very interesting. Please keep me up to date.”

The Dark Man chuckled. He knew that however much Lilithmon may have admired Astamon’s strength and cruelty, she had no emotional attachment to anyone apart from herself. The opportunity for causing chaos, not a chance of revenge, would ensure that she took him up on it. He could have ordered her to go; she had the same reverence and (though she would never admit it) fear of him that the Witchmon had had. But it would be better this way.

After leaving the demoness behind, the Dark Man sought out Sato Katsu.

“She’ll do it,” he informed Sato, who nodded and thanked him for his help. “You’re welcome, Sato-kun.” His brightly black eyes lit up as if in sudden inspiration. “It’s a beautiful night,” he said, though there were no windows in the structure. “I think I’ll take a little walk.”

Sato did not question him. He had learned to accept the Dark Man’s eccentricities.

Besides, Sato had his own plans for the coming night.


	16. Uneasy Lull

_“There were, besides, great formless heaps of books on the floor and in crude bins, and it was in one of these heaps that I found the thing. I never learned its title, for the early pages were missing, but it fell open towards the end and gave me a glimpse of something which sent my senses reeling.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Book”_

Daisuke and Ken were the first of the three groups to return to the human world, followed shortly by Miyako and Hikari. Iori and Takeru arrived some time later, worn out from their climb up the crypt’s twisting stairs. Worn out was actually a good way to describe all of them. The lack of rest the previous night and the excitement of the day combined to render them near exhaustion.

Emotionally, however, they felt considerably better than they had the previous day. It felt good to be taking action again. Perhaps in the back of their minds they realized the lack of real progress, and dreaded the coming night, but for the most part they were more cheerful after the day’s experiences. Iori noted that somewhere during the climb up the stairs Takeru had returned to his normal personality.

Unfortunately, the good feelings didn’t last. Each returning group was greeted by a growing number of solemn faces. They had entered the Digital World through the computer in Yagami Taichi’s bedroom. When Daisuke, Chicomon, Ken, and Leafmon returned, Taichi was waiting with a message from Koshiro.

“Daisuke, Koshiro let me know that while you guys were taking care of those Dark Towers, new towers have started to appear all over the Digital World.”

“Aw… It’s just like when Ichijouji was – you know…” He broke off.

“Conquering the Digital World,” Ken said. Taichi nodded.

“Back then, Daisuke’s team would destroy at least one Dark Tower every day, but there were always more being built. It didn’t end until they went after the towers’ source.”

“So we’ll have to do it again,” Daisuke said.

“If only we knew where to go,” said Ken.

“Back then,” Daisuke recalled, “we just started looking all over for the enemy base. Maybe we could do the same thing again?”

The other two thought for a moment.

“This time at least one of the enemies is an adult, like Oikawa,” Taichi said. “There may be a base in this world.”

“I would think,” Ken said, “that there would be at least one base in the Digital World. It would be hard to hide highly evolved Digimon in this world for very long.”

“Yeah, you couldn’t pretend Witchmon or Astamon was a stuffed animal,” Daisuke agreed. “Maybe when the others—” His eyes opened wide. “Where are they? Did they run into enemies like Astamon!?”

He was interrupted by a light from the computer screen, and the appearance of the second group, consisting of Miyako, Pururumon, Hikari, and Plotmon.

Before sharing what he knew with the newcomers, Taichi assured both groups that Takeru and Iori had both encountered the enemy, managed to defeat them, and were on their way back. After that, the news about the new Dark Towers was shared, and the two groups traded stories of their experiences.

“I wonder how many Perfect-level Digimon the enemy has,” Ken said.

“It will be worse if they have any Ultimates,” Hikari noted.

“We’ll worry about that tomorrow,” Miyako said. “I’m so tired…”

There was a long silence in the room as everyone gazed into space, each occupied with his or her own thoughts.

Miyako’s mention of being tired reminded Taichi of his own lack of restful sleep the previous night. He had lain awake for a long time, thinking about his sister in the other bedroom, and wondering what she might be going through. Eventually he had fallen asleep, and had dreamed.

In his dream he had been walking down an endless hallway, and with every turn of a corner he came upon another corpse. There was Daisuke, his face blackened, Taichi’s old goggles knotted about his throat. Here was what he had to assume from size and clothes was Iori, his face left in bloody ruins. Miyako, hanged. Ken, impaled. Takeru, eviscerated. As he progressed the hall lights grew gradually dimmer, so that when at last he turned the final, dreaded corner, and saw the end of the hall, all he could make out was a sixth body lying in the gloom before the elevator doors.

He knew, with the certainty of doom one sometimes feels in nightmares, whose body it had to be. He walked closer, though not because he wanted to. Details began to come to him out of the dark. First he saw she wasn’t wearing any clothes. Then he saw she wasn’t wearing any skin.

 

***

Wisemon opened his eyes to darkness. This was not the dimness of a cave in the daytime, but a blackness which told him that the sun had gone down, and it was night in the desert. He might also have known by the coldness of the air. He knew, too, without having to feel about, that the Book was still with him; he had slept with his arms folded about it for one thing, and for another it had a funny way of returning to him when lost. Sometimes he staggered under its size and weight, but at the moment it was small and lighter than seemed possible.

Moving one arm, he raised his hand, and above his palm a light sprang into existence. It issued from a yellow, glowing orb, ringed with blue bands that hovered about the sphere’s surface. In this new light he could clearly see the way back out to the open sands, and he followed the twisting walls of the tunnel until he was out once more in the boundless waste. The Book floated out of his arm and hovered slowly away, and he followed.

From a distance, one would have seen only a pair of bobbing lights, one yellow, one red, both spherical. Sometimes Wisemon would juggle the orbs to amuse himself, or let them orbit around him like satellites. He needed just enough light to see the Book and to follow it.

Wisemon had had the Book for as long as he could remember. Sometimes he would write in it, other times find that someone else had written for him, though it never once left his person. What he wrote and found varied, but mostly the Book was about strange things. It had the history of many places in it, some of which Wisemon knew and others which neither he nor any other Digimon had ever heard of. There were odd names without much context, and long passages in some foreign language.

At times the Book would suggest things to him, and he would do them. Most often the Book lay still, like any other normal object, but at other times it would float through the air or slide along the ground, at times when no one else was watching. When it did this he would follow it.

He could not imagine life without the Book. It was a part of him, like the two bright round stones he could make appear and disappear, and move as he wished.

Several days ago the Book had begun to move again. Usually it did this only for brief periods, but now it moved all throughout the night. During the day it lay still, and he would sleep, or eat, but at night he walked, or sometimes floated himself. The Book was taking him into the desert. He was not much worried, though, since the Book seemed to know where all the oases were, and though he was hungry, he was not starving, and though he was thirsty, he could live.

He had been walking for some time when suddenly the Book began to pick up speed. It changed direction and shot away, and Wisemon hurried after it. The Book’s altitude declined, and before long it was sliding across the sand at such a speed that its owner had to fly over the ground as fast as he could to keep up with it.

Eventually the Book began to slow down. A while longer and it had ground to a halt. Wisemon slackened his speed as well. He was almost to it when he noticed that a shadow not his own fell across it, cast by the low moon. Looking into the distance he saw someone walking quickly towards him. This person was tall, and did not look like any Digimon that Wisemon had ever seen.

The person drew closer and Wisemon realized that this was what the Book called a human being, one of the many strange things he had learnt about from its pages. As the man – he could see now it was a man – came still nearer, however, he began to doubt the impression. He had never heard of humans whose eyes glittered even when no light fell upon them. The man smiled and raised a hand as if to wave.

The Book, which had been lying still for some while, suddenly shot into the air and then paused with its spine pressing the man’s palm. His fingers closed around it, and the white smile broadened. The man spoke.

“Hello, Wisemon. I’ve been waiting for you.”

And Wisemon realized, as the man said it, that Wisemon had been waiting for him, too.


	17. Restlessness

_“Through the ghoul-guarded gateways of slumber,_  
_Past the wan-mooned abysses of night,_  
_I have lived o’er my lives without number,_  
_I have sounded all things with my sight;_  
_And I struggle and shriek ere the daybreak, being driven to madness with fright.”_  
_– H. P. Lovecraft, “Nemesis”_

By the time Takeru opened the door of his apartment, he was nearing the point of exhaustion. A combination of two restless nights, worry for the future and his friends, the excitement of the day, the climb up the crypt stairs, the bad news upon return, and the walk home from the Yagamis’ apartment had worn him out. Iori and Miyako had walked with him, though they spoke little. Even Miyako was relatively silent.

He left them at the eighth floor and walked down the hall to the apartment. Once inside, he sat down to remove his shoes. As he was finishing up his mother poked her head out of her office.

“You’re very late getting home,” she said with some annoyance. “Where were you all day?”

“With friends,” Takeru said. Natsuko noticed Tokomon sitting beside her son.

“What happened to Patamon?” she asked. Takeru said nothing, too busy searching for some half truth with which to sate her curiosity. “Were you fighting?”

Tokomon waited for his partner to reply.

“A little,” Takeru said, “but it’s over now. Don’t worry.”

“You sound done in,” she said, her tone softening somewhat. “I do trust you, but I wish you would keep me up to date.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking Tokomon in his arms and standing up. “Were you waiting up for me?”

“No,” she sighed. “I was working. It’s been a busy past few days. I’m writing about those strange earthquakes.”

“Earthquakes?”

“The past week or so there have been some unusually strong earthquakes in odd places. Just today there was another one in France. I talked to your grandfather about it today.”

Takeru and his partner looked at each other. They had just remembered the unusual seismic activity that had begun in the Digital World a couple months ago.

“Anyway,” Natsuko continued, “you had better get to bed soon.”

Takeru nodded slowly.

“Actually, so should I,” she continued. “The story isn’t written yet but I could use some rest. I haven’t been sleeping well recently.”

Takeru looked up quickly from Tokomon’s own black eyes and scanned his mother’s face.

“What do you mean?” he asked. Natsuko was puzzled at his obvious interest.

“It’s nothing,” she said. “Just some odd dreams.”

***

After the business of the day, the six current Chosen Children did not, for better or worse, have much trouble getting to sleep. Daisuke did not exactly dream, but occasionally he would start awake with a fading sense of oppression. When this happened he would listen to Chicomon’s barely audible breathing until lulled to sleep again, only to have the same thing happen again an hour or so later.

Many people around the world would have the same problem that night, but a far greater number would be troubled by true dreams. The most disturbing dreams were reserved for other Chosen Children. Out of the twelve, most of their nightmares were retreads of the last two nights, though a few suffered from new visions.

Miyako was one of these. She dreamed that she had awakened in her own room. Her curtains were open, and she could see that outside it was a dark day, covered by dense clouds that were lit by occasional lightning. Her partner was not in the basket which served as his bed, nor could she find him anywhere else in the room. She stepped out into the apartment’s living room. Here the curtains were not only open but blowing in the wind coming in through the shattered glass doors which led out to the balcony.

Besides herself there were no signs of life in the apartment. Miyako went first to the broken doors and walked out to the balcony railing. There were no people in the street below, and no vehicles still moving. Many of the windows in the other buildings had also been broken. There were cracks in the blacktop. Something…

She went back inside and turned on the television, but there was only static on the screen. She turned it off and looked back into the empty apartment. Not a sound but the wind and the thunder. She passed quickly through the entire apartment, checking each room. The computer’s screen had been broken inwards. Her parents and siblings were nowhere to be found. Gradually the realization came to her that something incredible had happened. While she had slept, the world had died.

Alone. So often Miyako had wished for time to herself, without the bustle of her family. She would have it now, the certainty came to her. She was the last human being on the planet. Over the years she had developed an overblown personality as a tool for attracting attention, but there was no one to talk over now. Alone forever. Lightning exploded in the distance.

She spent the entire night in that dream, not recognizing it for what it was until a thousand years had passed and she woke with Poromon sitting on her chest.

In an apartment building some way down the street, Kido Jou dreamt that he was drowning in a sea of blood, and Izumi Koshiro imagined himself falling through boundless space full of strange laughter. Still farther down the street, Yagami Hikari had been drawn once more to the old town by the dark sea.

She was upstairs in one of the ancient houses this time. She didn’t want to make a noise lest her appeals to the waking world should fail and the home’s potential inhabitants hear her. Cautiously, trying to prevent the boards beneath her feet from creaking too loudly, Hikari moved through the room. She saw that the door had been burst open from within, and was reluctant to walk out into the rest of the house, where anything might be waiting.

In the end, though, she did pass through the doorway. Exploration was not the best course of action, but she didn’t like the thought of waiting in a place with only one exit. The fishy smell was not as strong out in the hallway, which comforted her somewhat. It was dark, but Hikari felt her way down the hall and found stairs leading to the ground floor.

She now found herself in the house’s cramped foyer. The half-light of the gray sky filtered in through the dusty panes of the windows. Hikari headed towards the front door, intending to get out of the house and into the relatively open streets. She reached for the doorknob, but before she even touched it, it began to turn. She didn’t wait for the door to open, but retreated down the hall, looking for a place to hide herself. Behind the stairs there was a door which she opened, finding another flight of stairs descending into the house’s cellar.

There were footsteps now in the foyer. The girl went through the door and stood at the top of the stairs. The smell of salt and decay was again strong here. There was just enough light to make out a bolt on her side of the door, and she slid it home. Hikari could still hear the footsteps, which paused just outside the door. From the sound of them it seemed that the being was wearing shoes, so presumably this was the man with the cold voice, and not one of the things which went barefoot. A moment later and her suspicions were confirmed.

“If I were in your position,” he said, “I would open this door. You never know what might be hiding in the attics and basements of this town.”

She said nothing.

“Wouldn’t you rather come with me than take the chance of…” As the man’s voice trailed off, Hikari heard the wooden staircase groan somewhere below her. Something was ascending.

There was no time for indecision. In a sudden panic she grasped the bolt and tugged at it, but now it did not move so easily. The stairs creaked under soft, wet feet. With the strength of desperation Hikari wrenched the bolt fully to the side. A crack of brighter light appeared between door and wall – but she was grasped from behind by half a dozen slippery black paws, and was pulled down and backwards into the dark. She did make a noise then.

***

Sato Katsu’s eyes snapped open. He was awake again, had come out of the trance. And that meant Yagami Hikari had awakened as well.

“Damn it,” he muttered, and sat up. He was deep below the rest of the base, in a vault of black stone. This was his shrine, the place where he came to worship his god. He also came each night, passing into a trance as he harnessed the power of the call to penetrate Yagami Hikari’s subconscious and insinuate himself into her dreams.

Here was the end of the third night, but he had made little progress. Sato knew, and had no doubt that he admitted to himself, that it was only a matter of time before their repeated nightmares broke the Chosen Children’s spirits. They had no rest by day or night. And yet… seventy-two hours later they still endured.

“I’ve had enough of this play,” Sato said to the black room. It was time to add a third front to the war. The Digital World and the minds of the Chosen were both under attack, and now would come the human world. Sato climbed back up to the base proper. Here he took his cell phone out of his pocket and speed-dialed Hiraga Ayaki.

“I have new instructions for you,” he said when Hiraga picked up. The mercenary didn’t have to ask who was calling. “You should expect the arrival of some guests.”


	18. Thinning Barriers

_“They say foul things of Old Times still lurk_  
_In dark forgotten corners of the world._  
_And Gates still gape to loose, on certain nights_  
_Shapes pent in Hell.”_  
_– Robert E. Howard, “The Black Stone”_

The morning came at last, and it was time for the Chosen Children to get back to work. Their partners had evolved back to their normal states during the night, and were ready to resume their destruction of the Dark Towers. The Digimon felt, though they didn’t say so even to each other, that they had to be strong for their partners, who were visibly tired and preoccupied. Even the group’s most cheerful personalities were somewhat subdued today. The previous night, and the thought of who knew how many similar nights to come, weighed on their minds.

Rather than the ten-tower clusters they had dealt with on the previous day, there was a blanket of sparser towers spread over a large area of the Digital World. It would be hard for the enemy to guard them all, but it was decided that the Chosen would split into the same groups as yesterday in case they ran into resistance.

An interesting discovery was made early on. A number of the areas where Dark Towers had been built were composed entirely of ocean. Hikari and Miyako had told the others about the half-buried towers they had found in the rotting town by the train tracks. Takeru and Iori had also informed their friends of the subterranean Dark Towers they had found in the town Gennai called Kingsport. Apparently they would now have to seek out underwater towers as well. Ken reflected that this was only to be expected given the Dark Towers’ place of origin.

Since Iori’s partner was the only Digimon of much use in water, he and Submarimon would sweep the sea bottom while Takeru and Pegasmon provided any necessary support from the air. The land-based Dark Towers were divided up between the remaining two groups, with the girls and their flying Digimon generally taking the rougher ground, leaving Daisuke and Ken with the plains where Lighdramon could run relatively unimpeded.

***

On his way from the shrine to the map room, Sato Katsu noticed that something had changed during the night. An alcove had appeared in one of the hallways that had not been there before. In it stood one of the metal rings used to contain the portals which connected the base to other locations. There was a portal open in it now, and on the other side Sato could see the ever-shifting image of a stone door.

Sato paused. His eyes narrowed. He started forward, only to see the door open and a dark, nebulous shape step through it. The thing emerged from the portal, and Sato saw that it was the Dark Man, his eyes brighter than ever.

“What is that?” Sato asked softly.

“New recruit,” the other answered, his face splitting in a grin. Sato considered his next words carefully.

“I was not informed,” he said, slowly.

“I was just on my way to tell you,” the Dark Man replied. “You’ll like him. I think he’ll work out great.”

“What is his name?” Sato asked.

“Wisemon. I went ahead and helped him get settled. Come inside. I’ll introduce you.”

Sato stepped after him through the portal. The Dark Man had left the stone door open on the other side, and they passed through into a shadowy antechamber.

“Where is this place?” Sato asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” the Dark Man said. “I assure you that no one will be getting in except through that portal.”

There was another of the stone doors in this room, which flew open when the Dark Man touched it with his fingertips. On the other side was a small, torch-lit room, the walls lined with books of all shapes, sizes, and ages.

“Wisemon?”

A Digimon sat at a table of petrified wood. He was humanoid, robed in brown, his head hooded in light-colored cloth. The Digimon turned at the voice, and Sato saw round yellow eyes looking out of the shadows under the hood.

“Yes, Dark One?”

“This is Sato Katsu-san. He’s the one who called me here. You’ll do what he tells you.”

Wisemon stood and bowed deeply. Sato considered saying something, but the Dark Man’s introduction seemed sufficient. There would be time for conversation with this Digimon once he knew what its purpose was. The Dark Man tapped Sato on the shoulder. Sato shivered involuntarily at the contact. “That will do,” the Dark Man said. “Go back through the portal.”

Sato turned and looked at the Dark Man. There was puzzlement in his expression, and a shadow passed briefly over his face. For a moment he looked… frightened. The Dark Man raised his eyebrows and Sato resumed his usual expression. He retreated through the door, leaving the Dark Man alone with Wisemon.

“I’ll let you get back to your studies,” the Dark Man said.

“Many thanks, Dark One. There is so much…”

“Yes.” The Dark Man began to exit the room, paused, and looked back. “Oh, Wisemon. You’ll do what Sato tells you – unless I’ve told you to do differently.”

“Of course, Dark One.”

***

“We will be sending our first group of Digimon into the human world today,” Sato said when the Dark Man reemerged from the portal.

“Good, good. You’re progressing rapidly.”

“I would like you to be present, but we must start soon, before the children destroy too many Dark Towers. Anubimon won’t be able to resume opening the gates for some time.”

“We can do it now,” the Dark Man announced. They walked on a ways in silence. Eventually Sato spoke.

“Who is Wisemon?”

The Dark Man chuckled.

“An Anubimon of sorts,” he said. “Not yet, but one day. Trust me. Just wait and see.”

***

The destruction of the Dark Towers progressed slowly but steadily. Whoever had built them had taken the idea of hiding and disguising the towers to an extreme. In a few instances they were hidden in places where it should have been impossible to insert them without leaving behind a good deal more evidence than the Chosen found. It was as though these towers had simply materialized out of the air rather than been built. Had the Chosen Children and their partners not known that there were Dark Towers in these areas, they would have missed them entirely.

Despite these difficulties, however, the Dark Towers had been left unguarded.

“This is strange,” Takeru said to Pegasmon. “We haven’t run into any of the enemy.” He got out his D-Terminal and sent the others a message containing the same thought.

 _We’ve seen plenty of normal Digimon down here,_ Iori typed back, _but none guarding the Dark Towers._

 _I’m worried that the enemy may be doing something while we destroy the towers,_ Hikari messaged.

 _Archnemon and Mummymon kidnapped those children in 2002 while we were destroying the Dark Towers around the world,_ Ken said.

“What if the same thing is happening now?” Miyako wondered aloud. 

“What do you think?” Daisuke asked Ken, some distance away. “Could it be happening again?”

Ken pondered the question for a minute.

“It could be,” he said, “but we don’t know what the enemy’s plan is. What are they after?”

“The Dark Towers are used to break down the walls between the worlds, right?” Daisuke asked.

“Yeah,” Ken confirmed. He thought for a while. “If I had to guess, I would say that they want to bring something out of the Dark World.”

Daisuke pondered on this, his expression worried.

“Well,” he said at last. “All we can do right now is take out these Dark Towers. We can keep the barriers strong until those guys show themselves!”

Ken smiled.

“You’re right,” he said. “Let’s go.”


	19. Reengagement

_“Vast and lonely is the ocean, and even as all things came from it, so shall they return thereto. In the shrouded depths of time none shall reign upon the earth, nor shall any motion be, save in the eternal waters.” – R. H. Barlow, “The Night Ocean”_

The first thing BlackTailmon noticed was the noise. There were bustling regions of the Digital World, but nothing approaching this. The sound of people and vehicles was overwhelming. If the entire human world was as densely populated as this place, she didn’t see what her superiors hoped to accomplish here.

She had come through the gate with Lilithmon and the demoness’s subordinates, appearing in Tamachi. They now stood concealed in the shadows of an alleyway, where they were to await instructions. BlackTailmon turned at the sound of an opening door, claws extended. A human stepped out of the doorway, palms outward to show that he was unarmed.

“Sato told us you were coming,” he said. “Welcome to the human world, Lilithmon-sama. We’re here to escort you to your new headquarters.”

***

Submarimon cruised through the dark depths, Iori lying in his protective dome. They had destroyed a number of Dark Towers, and were headed towards another cluster situated in a sort of underwater valley. Soon the valley’s flat floor spread out beneath them, and they could see a kind of city. The structures were patterned after ancient Greek ruins, though these buildings were fully intact. Five Dark Towers sat around it in the same pentagram formation that they had seen beneath Kingsport.

“I see Digimon moving down there, dagyaa,” Submarimon said. Iori strained his eyes and thought he could pick out motion as well. Shadowy forms darted among the buildings and in the surrounding water.

“They look like they’re… fighting,” Iori said. “Let’s get closer.”

Submarimon picked up speed and descended towards the city. As they drew nearer, the two of them were able to see that the Digimon in the valley were, as Iori had thought, fighting. They noted which Digimon were fighting against which other Digimon.

There were apparently two sides, one composed of Gesomon, Hangyomon, and another Digimon Hikari had described to him after her trip to Hong Kong, Octmon. The opposing Digimon were composed of Rukamon and a Digimon they had never seen before, like an anthropomorphic orca wearing various floatation devices.

“Some of those Digimon are guarding the Dark Towers,” Submarimon pointed out. He was right. Around each of the towers there were several of the Hangyomon. When one of their enemies approached, they would attack with their harpoons, driving them off or killing them.

“I’ll let Takeru know,” Iori said. “If those Digimon are guarding the Dark Towers they must be with the enemy.”

“I’ll take those Dark Towers down, dagyaa! **Oxygen Homing!** ” The torpedoes sped toward the nearest of the towers. Rather than trying to avoid the projectiles, the Hangyomon moved to form a living barricade around the structure. The torpedoes exploded upon contact, and the fish-men Digimon slumped to the sea floor.

“Now!” Iori said.

**“Aqua Vulcan!”**

The top half of the tower detached from the base and fell slowly to the sand. Several of the fighting Digimon turned their attention in the direction of the fallen tower.

“Let’s hurry and destroy the other four,” Iori said.

***

Pegasmon hovered above the waves. He and Takeru knew that Submarimon was somewhere below them, but were unsure of how to aid him in case he needed help. For the moment all they could do was wait for news while Takeru relayed Iori’s message to the other two groups.

***

Daisuke received Takeru’s message just as Lighdramon put an end to another Dark Tower. His group had had an easier time finding Dark Towers than the other two. Many were not hidden at all, though several had to be dug out of the ground, which was a slow process without Digmon’s help.

“Ichijouji! Iori and Takeru just ran into the enemy.”

“Then we’ll have to be on the lookout for them, too,” Ken said.

***

“There’s a problem,” Sato said, watching the map screen. “Two of the children have run into the group attacking Poseidonis.”

The Dark Man didn’t bother looking at the screen himself.

“I know,” he said. “Why worry? Only the one with the Digimental of Sincerity can fight underwater.”

Sato turned and looked at him.

“I don’t want to just keep them busy,” Sato said. “They must be kept under constant strain.” A strange expression crossed his face. “You know that,” he said, under his breath. He turned back to the screen and the interface in front of him. “I’m sending task forces towards the other children.”

The Dark Man laughed.

“What do you expect that to do?” he asked. “They’ve already defeated three Perfect-level Digimon who had every advantage.”

Sato’s reply was spoken calmly and evenly, but a dangerous frustration showed in his face.

“What do you want me to do? We have not lost yet.”

“Of course not!” The Dark Man laughed, and Sato drew back in his chair. “We are not even close to losing! You worry too much, Sato-kun.” He stood up. “I really don’t care what you do. Whatever makes you happy.”

“What would make me happy…” Sato mused softly. “Firstly, I would like to see the Chosen Children suffer, like they never have before.”

The Dark Man’s grin split his face, and he laughed again, louder than before. Sato turned his face to the side, as if in a cold wind.

“You never disappoint me, Sato,” the Dark Man said. He turned to leave the room. “They will,” he called over his shoulder, before the door closed behind him. Sato turned back to the screen and contemplated the six colored dots on its surface.

“Secondly,” he whispered. “I await the time.”

***

Submarimon steered toward the second of the Dark Towers. The structure had just about come within range of his Oxygen Homing attack when he felt himself enveloped in something more solid than water. Iori’s vision went dark inside his cockpit just before Submarimon’s body twisted about.

Though the boy could not see what was happening, Submarimon knew that one of the gigantic Octmon had fastened itself to him. Submarimon tried to twist away from his attacker, but the suckers on the creature’s tentacles gripped his surface tightly.

“Submarimon!” Iori cried. “What’s going on?”

The dim light of the depths was allowed back into Iori’s compartment as the Octmon’s tentacles shifted somewhat. In one of its eight arms the thing held a jagged-edged scimitar. Bringing the weapon around, it began to pry at the watertight bubble. Submarimon tried again to wrench free of the suckers, and again failed.

The Octmon gave up on trying to insert the blade between the glass and Submarimon’s frame. Instead it reversed the sword, smashing the hilt repeatedly into the glass. Iori didn’t think that the sword would be enough to shatter glass built to withstand ocean depths, but he could hear Submarimon grunt with each impact.

“Submarimon!”

“Hold on, Iori! I think—” There was one possible option left. Submarimon pointed his nose upwards, and Iori held tight to the controls as he was pulled vertical. Vents opened in the rear of the Digimon, on either side of the main propeller.

**“Hydro Jet!”** The vents erupted. Submarimon, his human passenger, and Octmon, shot towards the ocean’s surface. The water here was not deep, and soon they had broken through the ceiling of water, sending up such a spray that Takeru and Pegasmon immediately saw it.

“Is that—?” Takeru said.

“Submarimon’s in trouble,” Pegasmon answered. Within no time they were almost directly above the struggling mass in the water. “Turn, Submarimon!”

With a final colossal twist, Iori’s partner managed to bring the entirety of his attacker’s body out of the water.

**“Silver Blaze!”** Pegasmon’s aim was good. Smoke poured from the gigantic cephalopod’s body. The Octmon squealed in pain and detached itself from its prey. The oddly shaped gun clutched in one of its tentacles aimed upwards toward this new enemy. A stream of black liquid sprayed from the gun. Pegasmon was able to escape the worst of it, but was spattered in places by the caustic fluid, and cried out.

**“Submarine Attack!”** Submarimon charged, the spiked drill on his nose rotating. The Octmon attempted to flee deeper, but Pegasmon’s attack had already wounded it grievously, and it was not fast enough. The drill tore through its sac-like body, and the monster exploded in a cloud of data.

“Are you all right, Pegasmon?” Takeru asked.

“I’m fine,” he answered through the pain.

“Takeru-san!”

They looked down and saw Iori upright with the hatch raised.

“We’re going to go down again and destroy the other Dark Towers. Tell the others what’s happening.” Takeru shouted back that he would, and reached for his D-Terminal. But by now his friends were having problems of their own.


	20. New Encounters

_“I came to the cliffs and was somewhat disquieted to note that the illusive moonlight lent them a subtle appearance I had not noticed before – in the weird light they appeared less like natural cliffs and more like the ruins of cyclopean and Titan-reared battlements jutting from the mountain-slope.” – Robert E. Howard, “The Black Stone”_

The first that they saw of it was a pinnacle of gray emerging from the forest. Miyako, Holsmon, Hikari, and Nefertimon had been searching the entire day for Dark Towers in a heavily forested and mountainous region. They had found several, but it was slow going. Only a few of the towers had tops which could be seen above the trees. The majority were hidden among the trees, sometimes half buried in the earth. They had spent a good twenty minutes scouring one area for a tower that they eventually found with only its pyramidal top aboveground.

As the flying Digimon drew closer to this new mass, the group was able to see that it was an artificial construction. Stone tiles covered the surface of a bizarre, asymmetrical structure. They got closer still, and Hikari noticed that there were entrances in the walls. Holsmon pulled up next to Nefertimon.

“Should we see what’s inside?” Hikari asked Miyako.

“Well,” the other girl said, “we know there’s a Dark Tower here somewhere. Maybe it’s inside there. But…” she looked down at her partner. “Can we fit?”

“We can revert to our usual forms,” Holsmon said. Miyako looked dubiously at the shadowy apertures.

“Any Digimon that may be inside there would have to be small as well,” Nefertimon pointed out. The girls looked at each other and nodded.

“Let’s go,” Hikari said.

There were large, semicircular ledges just outside each entrance. Hikari and Miyako alighted on one, and their partners devolved to Hawkmon and Tailmon. Beyond the threshold lay a stone tunnel leading into the heart of the gigantic structure. They began walking in file, Tailmon in front and Hawkmon bringing up the rear.

Every once in a while they would pass archways leading into other tunnels, but the layout was not mazelike, and there was no danger of being unable to retrace their steps. There were no echoes but their own footfalls. Even so, they peered into each arch they came to, making sure there was nothing squatting in the shadows.

Tailmon was just passing by the fifth of these when she caught sight of movement within. She took an instinctive little jump back into her partner, barely avoiding the gigantic blue fist which came shooting out of the dark. It withdrew just as quickly, and there next emerged from the passage a trio of small white Digimon, instantly recognizable as ghostlike Bakemon.

Reversing her motion, Tailmon sprang forward, her own fist extended. Hawkmon made to move forward and help, but he was hit from behind. Miyako turned and saw that a second group of Bakemon had taken up positions behind them.

“Hawkmon!” She knelt quickly to help her partner to his feet.

“Stand back, Miyako-san.” He moved his wings above his head and grasped the feather atop it.

**“Feather Slash!”** He threw it like a spinning blade, and the Bakemon disintegrated as it ripped through their cloth bodies. Tailmon’s claws had made equally short work of the other enemies, but everyone could see additional luminous white forms speeding forward to take the place of their fallen comrades.

“Let’s get outside!” Hikari yelled.

**“Cat’s Eye!”** The Bakemon that Tailmon had been staring down ceased moving forward and began floating around aimlessly, as if confused. The cat Digimon then turned to help Hawkmon clear a path through the enemies that had flanked them.

***

Lighdramon and his passengers raced on to the next area. This territory was more rugged than what they had traversed up to this point, with a greater number of hills and valleys. It was not long after entering the region that Daisuke, Ken, and Wormmon noticed that Lighdramon had begun to slow down. They could see that he tried to maintain his pace, but was having difficulty.

“Are you okay, Lighdramon?” Daisuke asked. “Do you wanna take a break?”

“We have come pretty far,” Ken said. Lighdramon continued running, and didn’t speak for a few seconds.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he said. “Usually I’d have energy to spare.”

“Well, let’s rest for a while, anyway,” Daisuke said. He and the others dismounted.

“I’m sorry, Lighdramon,” said Wormmon. “It’s not fair for you to do all the work.”

“It’s okay,” the other Digimon replied. “But… I don’t know why I’m so tired all of a sudden. Let’s keep walking.” He began moving again, keeping to the others’ pace. Eventually they reached the crest of a rocky hill, and saw another of the Dark Towers standing across a valley from their position.

“Well, that was easy,” Daisuke said brightly.

“I’ll take it out,” Lighdramon answered. He started down the hill. He had reached the bottom by the time Ken spoke.

“Where did that mist come from?” Ken asked.

“Huh?”

Daisuke had not even noticed, but as he took a closer look at his surroundings he found that his visibility had lessened. A thin gray mist had materialized suddenly in the air. Moment by moment it grew thicker, and already the Dark Tower was difficult to pick out among the haze.

Lighdramon paused, looking around him warily. He could… feel something. Why was he so tired? Neither he nor the others saw anything.

Then in an instant there was an object speeding out of the mist, appearing from nothingness to sink its fangs into Lighdramon’s flank. Lighdramon roared in pain, and turned his head around to better see his attacker. As he did so the jaws gripping him released and the enemy seemed to vanish, only to reappear somewhere in the mist and ram him from the opposite side.

Lighdramon went over with a grunt and rolled on the weedy ground as blood trickled from the punctures in his side. Whatever the thing was, it could pierce his natural armor without much effort, though it could not penetrate very deeply into the skin beneath.

Watching in open-mouthed astonishment from the hilltop, Daisuke and Ken could see the attacker dimly in the mist. It looked something like a wolf, fast and powerfully built, almost as large as Lighdramon himself.

“Ken-chan!” Wormmon turned half around to look at his partner.

“Yeah,” Ken said, beginning to recover from the shock of what had happened. He began to lift his Digivice. Before it was half way raised, however, the wolf thing turned, and, with a swish of its tail, disintegrated again into the mist. Lighdramon got shakily to his feet. The four strained their eyes to search for their attacker, but besides the swirling mists, there was no other movement. Somewhere, from no discernible direction, a wolf howled.

***

When Miyako and the others finally emerged from the tunnel and stopped just short of jumping off the semicircular ledge, they found several additional Bakemon floating in the air outside, waiting. These shot forward, but before they came close enough to attack the group, Holsmon and Nefertimon were newly evolved and ready for them.

**“Red Sun!”**

**“Nile Jewelry!”**

Several of the Bakemon vanished as the attacks hit them, but a handful still survived.

“Get on, Hikari.”

“Miyako-san.”

The girls mounted and their partners took to the sky. A blue hand emerged from the tunnel behind them and almost fastened itself in Miyako’s streaming hair, but was not fast enough. The Bakemon before the Chosen were beginning to back away from them when, without warning, a blast of searing wind from behind them blew the ghost Digimon to shreds.

The two Chosen Digimon and their riders were hit next. Nefertimon and Holsmon had the strength to avoid being blown backwards, but they winced at the sensation, a strange mingling of blistering heat and paralyzing cold. Miyako and Hikari cried out as they felt the last breath of it, and lowered their faces. When they looked up again and opened their eyes, they saw what must have been the deadly wind’s source.

There were two Digimon floating in midair that the Chosen had never seen before, one long and serpentine, the other seemingly built similar to Holsmon. The pair didn’t move, but only stared intently at the humans and their partners.

“I feel… a power…” Holsmon faltered.

“Familiar… but…” Nefertimon said.

“What are they?” Miyako asked. As if in answer, the beings plunged toward them.


	21. The Mist and the Shadow

_“There seemed a strange stillness over everything. But as I listened, I heard as if from down below in the valley the howling of many wolves. The Count’s eyes gleamed, and he said, “Listen to them, the children of the night. What music they make!” – Bram Stoker,_ Dracula

There was still no movement in the mist. Lighdramon remained standing and immobile. He didn’t know where the next attack would come from. His attacker could apparently move at will in the fog, so his only chance to counterattack would be to intercept his opponent’s next strike. Hopefully he would have the strength when the time came. His vitality seemed to be draining away with the blood still oozing from his side.

Daisuke, Ken, and Wormmon watched, equally tense, atop the hill. The mist shouldn’t be able to hide a Digimon of that size, not when they could still dimly see the Dark Tower’s outline in the distance.

“The Dark Tower,” Ken said.

“What?” Daisuke asked.

“If Lighdramon attacks the Dark Tower, the enemy should try to protect it.”

Daisuke understood. He turned and called out to his partner.

“Lighdramon! Destroy the Dark Tower!”

Lighdramon heard, and moved forward. Instantly the fog congealed into solid substance just ahead of him, and the wolf creature sprang up for his unarmored throat. Lighdramon had expected something like it, and lowered his head, attempting to skewer the thing with his jagged horn.

Neither Digimon’s attack went quite as planned. Lighdramon’s horn slammed sidewise into the batwing-shaped structure shielding the wolf’s head, and the wolf’s fangs closed on empty air. No sooner had the monster landed, however, than it whipped about to strike again, aiming for the wound it had first inflicted. Lighdramon was too worn out to dodge, and the wolf punched another hole in his side.

“He needs help!” Ken said. “Wormmon! **Digimental Up!”**

**“Wormmon, Armor Evolve! Midsummer Night of Kindness, Pucchiemon!”**

The pudgy fairy Digimon pointed his finger.

**“Heartener Beam!”** The light transfixed the wolf monster, which loosened its jaws and turned its head back to look at them. Released from its grip, Lighdramon reverted to V-mon. Daisuke raised his D-3.

“Now, Fladramon,” he said. **“Digimental Up!”**

But even as he called it out the wolf monster was running in his direction. Before it had traveled very far it faded out of visibility. By then, V-mon had almost completed his evolution. It was just as the process’s light was fading that the enemy rematerialized behind the trio on the hilltop. Ken and Pucchiemon had been looking around, trying to anticipate where the thing might appear next, but were both looking elsewhere at that moment. The wolf spoke, and its voice was low and windy.

**“Sticker Blade!”** The wolf’s fur stiffened, and out shot myriad tiny projectiles. Pucchiemon hardly had time to realize what had happened. Suddenly there were a million needles embedded in his body, and without even having time to scream he had returned to Wormmon. Daisuke and Ken whipped around in surprise, but were only in time to see the wolf Digimon vanish again. Daisuke was beside himself with a sort of righteous anger.

“What a coward!” He turned at random, shouting into the mist. “Come out! Are you afraid to fight fair!?”

There was no answer.

Fladramon had turned round to watch what would happen on the hill. He had moved forward to help, but he was tired – his legs wouldn’t move with their usual sureness and swiftness. Why did he feel so drained? The evolution had felt odd as well, as though there was more than just himself enveloped in its light.

Once the wolf had neutralized Pucchiemon and disappeared, Fladramon figured that it would be back to finish him. He turned back around and raised his arm, slowly. As he lifted it above his head the claws began to glow with heat.

**“Knuckle… Fire!”** He thrust his arm forward, and flames shot towards the Dark Tower, just as the wolf sprang out of the mist behind him, and his body was riddled with its numberless little blades. He returned instantly to V-mon, but the attack he had launched continued unimpeded. The Dark Tower cracked, and began to fall.

“Now!” Daisuke yelled. V-mon began to evolve, and the wolf Digimon hesitated, shifting its gaze as if blinded by the light of the evolution. Ken had made sure by now that Wormmon’s condition was stable, and also prepared for his partner to evolve. In the battle against Astamon they had seen the rejuvenative powers of Jogress Evolution, and they could certainly use them now.

**“V-mon, evolve! XV-mon!”  
** **“Wormmon, evolve! Stingmon!”**  
**“Jogress Evolve! Paildramon!”**

The Jogress Evolution to Paildramon was complete, but something was wrong. The feeling of sluggishness had not disappeared, and parts of his body ached. Especially painful was his left side, the place where the wolf monster had bitten Lighdramon. The wolf itself had not vanished again, but stood still, head raised.

Paildramon raised an arm and thrust at the creature with one of its spears. The wolf faded out of visibility just before the attack connected. Paildramon turned around instinctively, expecting a new attack from behind. Instead, the enemy reappeared in the exact spot it had been standing in, and leapt upon the larger Digimon’s back. The wolf’s fangs were made for tearing into the toughest materials, but were fortunately unable to penetrate Paildramon’s armor in a single bite.

Daisuke and Ken watched with teeth clenched in the stress of the moment. How could they beat this thing that vanished and reappeared at will? It wasn’t fair! The wolf monster adjusted its grip, seeking a weak place in the armor. Paildramon twisted about, trying to dislodge his opponent, but the movement was weak, and the wolf succeeded in holding on. In place of claws, its feet were armed with metal blades, and these cut long red furrows in its opponent’s flesh, and caused sparks to fly from the armor.

“I don’t understand,” Ken said. “Why is he so slow?”

“He needs to evolve!” Daisuke said by way of answer.

“But he has no energy,” the other boy replied. They continued their helpless watching.

Paildramon was running out of options. His back was a sheet of pain. He felt like collapsing, just falling over. A light sprang up in his mind. With what remained of his strength he threw himself backwards, trying to crush the enemy against the ground beneath him. 

The weight on his back vanished before he hit the earth. Another dead end. Would he have enough strength to rise again? Would it do any good if he could? Paildramon didn’t know what level the other Digimon was at, but a solid attack might be enough to defeat it. Hitting it was the problem. If it would only stop moving…

But he didn’t have much time to think. The wolf monster reappeared and pounced on its fallen target. Paildramon managed to get an arm up, and was able to prevent it from getting another bite in. He swept the arm out and managed to fling the beast away.

Paildramon began to sit up, tried to stand, but fell to one knee. His vision blurred periodically, but he saw the wolf standing before him. The creature’s fur bristled visibly as he watched, and the innumerable small blades began to fly. Paildramon was riddled with them. The pain was intense, but… Paildramon’s eyes opened wide. The enemy couldn’t move while using its technique. With a last volcanic burst of energy, Paildramon whipped his cannons around to face forward.

**“Desperado Blaster!”**

Energy bullets slammed into the wolf creature at a devastating rate. It grew blurry around the edges. As the Desperado Blaster continued, the wolf began to melt away, dissolving into data particles. At the last moment it raised its head for a final howl, and vanished completely. Daisuke prepared to let out a whoop, but it died in his throat.

The light of the sun was diffused by the mist, but still shone weakly, and Paildramon’s body cast a faint shadow on the ground. Just as the dying wolf had howled, this shadow began to unaccountably darken. It grew increasingly distinct, and was pitch black by the time Paildramon had managed to stand and turn back towards the humans. The shadow had been behind the Digimon, but he noticed it immediately upon turning.

The darkness upon the ground began to float upward, forming a solid outline of black. Paildramon worried about what it might mean, but as the darkness slowly left the ground, a sensation of relief began to flood through him. By the time the blackness had taken on a distinct shape, Paildramon knew that he had somehow been freed from the poison which had been sapping his strength ever since they entered the area. Color and detail were infused in the black shape, and within the space of a few seconds there stood before Paildramon another Digimon, the twin of the wolf monster he had just deleted.


	22. Perversions

_“I had always felt, from well-defined undertones of legend and archaeology, that great Quetzalcoatl – benign snake-god of the Mexicans – had had an older and darker prototype… But everything was tantalizing and incomplete, for above the border the cult of the snake was hedged about by fear and furtiveness.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Curse of Yig”_

The snake-like Digimon came on faster than its companion, rushing towards the still stationary Nefertimon. It flew on powerful feathered wings located near its head. The thing looked as though it was planning to ram Hikari’s Digimon, and the latter slid sideways in the air to avoid a collision.

**“Toltecan Wind!”** Another frigid blast of wind whipped just past Nefertimon, a hail of ice crystals forming in midair as it did so. Hikari whipped her head around to follow the enemy.

“That was…!” She saw the opposing Digimon turn to face them, and her eyes locked on its forehead. A symbol she recognized glinted gold in the sunlight. “The Crest of Light!”

**“Tusk Driver!”** The other newcomer shot towards Holsmon. From under its silver helmet ( _So similar to Holsmon’s,_ Miyako thought) protruded two long blue spikes, well capable of goring his target. Holsmon, still somewhat shocked by the sensation he had felt on first seeing the Digimon, did not recover in time to launch a counterattack, but he managed to swing his head around.

There was a metallic clang as one “wing” of Holsmon’s helmet clashed with his attacker’s tusks. Holsmon was driven backwards by the force of the blow, but in the moment of the collision Miyako had gotten a close look at the red sigil etched into the enemy’s helmet. This new Digimon wore the Crest of Love.

**“Freeze Wave!”** The serpentine Digimon began to radiate subzero cold. Nefertimon flew in the opposite direction, trying to outrun the waves, but rime had already begun to accrete on her haunches. Frost also appeared on Hikari’s clothes and the skin of her arms; she clenched her teeth to keep from crying out.

**“Heat Storm!”** The helmeted monster’s mouth opened in a roar. A violent wind blew up, and rapidly increased in temperature as it beat against Holsmon’s front. Miyako flattened herself as best she could against her partner’s back, but couldn’t avoid the blistering storm entirely. Holsmon backed away in the air, towards the stone edifice. Both he and Nefertimon knew that they would be unable to fight like this. Their partners couldn’t stand up to this kind of punishment for long.

“Who are you?” Hikari shouted at the serpent Digimon. Her voice was steady, though her body was still shivering even now that the attack had ended. “You have the Crest of Light! Why are you attacking us?”

“Yeah!” Miyako agreed, shouting at the tusked, helmeted enemy. “And the Crest of Love!”

The two unknown Digimon maneuvered themselves in the air so that they hovered between the two girls and their Digimon.

“The Crests are meaningless,” was the winged serpent’s sibilant answer.

“They are only birthmarks,” the red, tusked, helmeted Digimon added. “They tell the story of our creation. That is all.”

“Your creation?” Nefertimon asked. The serpentine Digimon answered her.

“We were born from data scanned from your Digimentals.”

None of the Chosen was able to respond. It seemed too incredible to believe. They could not conceive of Light and Love contributing to the creation of these Digimon.

“You seem surprised,” the tusked creature observed. “Our masters found a way to create the same amount of energy as the Digimental, but the nature of that energy is changed. I am Sethmon, Love turned to Hate.”

“And I,” said the other, “Coatlmon, Light furthering the purpose of Darkness.”

***

The elevator doors opened, and the human guide preceded Lilithmon and the others into their new base of operations. He led the way down the broad hall and opened the double doors at the far end. Beyond lay a spacious, cubical room, evidently a computer lab of sorts. There was a pair of double doors on each of the walls. Also on one wall was a large screen, connected by some mysterious means to Sato’s own base. On it were displayed the magnified features of Sato himself, and the Dark Man could be seen in the background, smiling placidly.

“So you are Digimon.” A fourth human was standing in the center of the large room, waiting for them. His tone was somewhat unsure. “I heard about them in the news, but I never thought I would actually meet any.” He took a step forward, then stopped, wanting to appear welcoming, but keeping his distance. “I’m Hiraga Ayaki. Sato-san,” he gestured toward the video screen, “wanted me to be here to welcome you.”

That was not quite true; Sato wanted Hiraga to come into contact with Digimon as soon as possible so that he could acclimate himself to their presence. He would be working closely with them in the days to come. He had not said as much, but Hiraga could guess his employer’s intent, since there was no other good reason for him to be here instead of aboveground. On the large screen, Sato nodded and addressed the group of Digimon.

“You won’t be free to explore the city until night falls.”

Lilithmon’s expression darkened, but she could see the Dark Man nodding, and said nothing. “For now, I want you to familiarize yourself with your new quarters, and with your human brethren.” Several of the people he referred to had entered the room since their arrival, or had been working all along at one of the room’s computers. The Digimon had little concept of human ethnicity, and thus did not pay much attention to the fact that although some of those present were Japanese like Sato and Hiraga, many were foreigners.

“I’m sure Hiraga-san and the others will answer any questions you may have,” Sato continued. “Make the most of your time, and be patient. Once the sun sets, you may do as you wish.”

Lilithmon’s malignant smile returned.

“How fun…” she murmured. “How fun.”

There were several dark chuckles behind her.

***

**“Mach Impulse!”** Holsmon knew that he would have to take the offensive. If he allowed the enemy to get another attack in, Miyako might be seriously injured. He had considered, since he was so near the stone structure, letting her alight at the entrance to one of the corridors, but knew that there were still Bakemon hiding within. Sethmon and Coatlmon shot apart as the blades of red light came streaking towards them.

Sethmon dipped low in the air and propelled himself upwards, trying to gore Holsmon through the stomach with his tusks. Holsmon saw his enemy’s plan and dodged the attack successfully. An idea came to him, and he dove toward the trees below.

“Miyako-san, take shelter in the forest. I’ll deal with Sethmon.”

“Okay…” she replied, reluctant to leave her partner, but knowing that he would be able to fight more effectively without her. “Be careful, Holsmon,” she said as she jumped off his back and landed without injury among the undergrowth.

After missing his mark, Sethmon had turned about and seen Holsmon’s plunge. He was just beginning to follow when a pair of red beams erupted from the trees, striking him in the unprotected chin. Stopping with a grunt of pain, the emissary of Hate readied himself. The air around him began to warm, and then to grow hot. Holsmon emerged from the foliage below, immediately launching into Tempest Wing. But this time, Sethmon was ready.

**“Heat Storm!”** Spontaneous flames sprang up around his body, and he barreled forward, a tornado of fire. Sethmon’s flames thundered against Holsmon’s wind, a pair of twisters locked in one place.

***

After dodging Mach Impulse, Coatlmon slipped through the sky towards the Digimon whose Crest his form mocked.

 **“Curse of Queen!”** As the pinkish beams approached, Coatlmon whipped his sinuous body out of their way, continuing his meandering approach to his enemies uninhibited. Soon, they were within range.

**“Fossil Wave!”**

Nefertimon felt an invisible energy wash over her. Strangely, she felt no pain, nor did Hikari, who also felt the wave of force as it engulfed them both. Coatlmon continued his rapid approach. Nefertimon prepared to launch a counterattack… but found that she could not. She felt stiff, unable to unleash the powers which usually came to her so easily. Concerned, Hikari tried to lean forward and ask what the problem was, but her muscles were tense and unresponsive. Nefertimon began slowly to sink downwards through the air, and still she and the girl were immobile.

The paralysis was slowly sapping Nefertimon’s ability to remain aloft, and gravity was taking over. Hikari wanted to shout, ask what was wrong, but her mouth and tongue refused to answer the commands of her brain; only a low groan escaped her. Coatlmon had come up beside them now, and deftly threw a coil about the paralyzed Chosen Child. Nefertimon continued to fall, picking up speed, and Hikari was left aloft with the winged serpent. Her partner crashed through the branches below, and there was silence except for the roaring of the dueling tornadoes.

“That went better than I expected,” Coatlmon admitted to his captive. “I suppose I should take the opportunity to finish her.” He slowly descended toward the forest.

***

Miyako, who had been watching the struggle between Holsmon and Sethmon through the canopy above her, turned when she heard a heavy impact somewhere to her right. She saw a white shape in that direction, and recognized it as Nefertimon. Had she been defeated? The thought was followed by a more pressing one: where was Hikari? With a last glance up at the twisters of wind and fire, she hurriedly made her way over to the fallen Digimon.

Nefertimon lay still as Miyako approached, but managed to stir feebly when the girl laid hands on her. The fall had hurt somewhat, but Coatlmon’s paralysis seemed to be gradually wearing off.

“Hi…kari…”

The tip of Coatlmon’s tail, a gold ornament like a metal flame, emerged from the tree tops, and his coils began to appear. Hikari was held limply in one, her face locked in the expression of concern she had worn when she first noticed Nefertimon’s reaction to the Fossil Wave. Soon Coatlmon’s head and wings came into view. His grip on Hikari loosened, and she fell without a sound to the forest floor.

“So everyone is here,” he said. “I can end this now.”


	23. Land, Sky, and Sea

_“And the day wore on, and still Olney listened to rumors of old times and places, and heard how the kings of Atlantis fought with the slippery blasphemies that wriggled out of rifts in ocean’s floor, and how the pillared and weedy temple of Poseidonis is still glimpsed at midnight by lost ships, who knew by its sight that they are lost.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Strange High House in the Mist”_

Still Takeru and Pegasmon hovered above the ocean’s surface with no response from either of the other two groups. They were worried, and frustrated at their inability to help. They could not go to their other friends’ aid, because then Submarimon and Iori would be left without the support which had proved crucial to their defeat of the Octmon. Takeru thought back to February, when Patamon had used the Digimental of Light and become the fish-like Manbomon. They could use it now, though he felt sure Hikari was glad to have it with her.

Below the surface, the battle still went on. The defenders of the underwater city had the disadvantage in terms of numbers, but Submarimon had been able to destroy four of the five Dark Towers. It had been a rough fight. They had been careful not to be taken by surprise again, but there were so many of the Hangyomon and their tentacled allies that the going was painfully slow.

He steered towards the fifth, and could see that all unoccupied enemies had gathered around it, and were waiting for his approach. All of the ruins’ inhabitants were either downed or battling. Submarimon would have to deal with the Dark Tower himself. A gang of Hangyomon was there, backed up by one of the massive Octmon and a pair of considerably smaller Gesomon. The latter drew in water and propelled themselves toward him.

“Don’t let them get close,” Iori said.

“I’ll attack from here, dagyaa! **Oxygen Homing!** ” The air-torpedoes found their mark in one of the Gesomon, which exploded in a cloud of black ink, but the other dodged and shot its elastic arms forward. Submarimon plunged to the side, evading the tentacles, but was left with no immediate means of counterattack. Iori looked to the side. The Octmon and Hangyomon had not yet moved.

The remaining Gesomon closed in again, lashing out with the claws on its two longest appendages. But Submarimon was faster, and soon he was making a wide turn in open water, trying to bring the enemy back into his sights.

***

**“Esgrima!”** Paildramon’s lance extended and he thrust his arm forward, but the wolf faded from existence, and the sharp point dug into the earth the creature had stood upon. Paildramon blinked, almost surprised that even with his returned strength and speed the thing was untouchable.

“Was that Digimon in his shadow the entire time?” Ken asked. He wondered whether that was the cause of Paildramon’s lack of energy. Had the unseen wolf been feeding off him somehow?

“We just need to hit it! Like the other one,” Daisuke said. His fury had abated, and his face was now set and grim. “If it uses that attack again…”

Ken wondered if it would, after seeing what had happened to its companion. As long as they were unable to strike back, it could wear Paildramon down regardless of any difference in their evolutionary levels.

Even as the thoughts crossed his mind the wolf creature leaped into solidity once more, behind Paildramon, and its teeth cut like razors through one of his white wings. Paildramon screamed and twisted around, shaking the monster off, though a good part of the wing went too, with a sickening ripping sound.

“Paildramon!” Daisuke yelled in horror.

Ken’s hands were shaking in a combination of anxiety and anger. Their partner, no matter how fast, couldn’t last much longer. In addition to the ruined wing, there were still deep groves in his back carved out by the first wolf’s blade-like claws. Ken realized that Daisuke was rushing forward, then felt the mist swirl about his face as he followed.

Like Ken’s, Daisuke’s advance had not been premeditated. His partner was in trouble, and he would be there, would do something. This wolf thing wasn’t Demon, or BelialVamdemon, or Armagemon. Its power lay not in its attack, certainly not in its defense, but in its cowardice, its cheating. They couldn’t lose here after all they’d been through. That would be ridiculous!

“Paildramon!” he called again.

His partner turned and saw the two humans approach, and saw the mist thicken in front of them. The wolf was there, the boys were staring past its fangs and down its throat as it came to meet them. Paildramon saw the beast’s intention, and struck without hesitation. But again, the thing was gone once more into the mist, still unharmed.

_There’s something wrong about this fog,_ Paildramon thought, _That Digimon fades right into it. Maybe…_ New hope dawned suddenly within him, and a familiar power began to wake. The light of evolution played about him.

**“Paildramon, Ultimate Evolve!...Imperialdramon!”**

Within moments Daisuke and Ken found themselves standing atop the massive dragon’s back, ensorcelled in the familiar blue light, and out of the mist’s cold dampness. Imperialdramon beat his mighty wings and took to the air.

“Are we running away!?” Daisuke asked in disbelief.

“No,” was his partner’s simple answer. There was no way the wolf creature could harm him in this form, but rendering it impotent was not enough after what they had suffered. The mist was the key. The vapors had gathered as if by magic just before the creatures’ attack. Whenever the wolf things wished they could become a part of that mist, and move freely within it. The Chosen would never be able to hit it unless the mist was obliterated. Imperialdramon stopped in the air and turned back towards the scene he had left behind. There was a small, dark shape down there, half obscured.

**“Mega Death!”** A sphere of light emerged from Imperialdramon’s mouth and sped toward the ground. The shape in the fog vanished as it approached, but Imperialdramon knew there was no cause for alarm. The projectile struck the ground, and from that incredible seed an explosion of energy blossomed, its radius greater even than that of the anomalous mist.

And when that brilliant light had faded, there was left no mist, no shape, only the monotony of blasted earth.

***

The second Gesomon was deleted by Aqua Vulcan, and Submarimon aimed himself again at the Dark Tower. The Octmon was still there. But the next instant, both it and the tower had disappeared behind a curtain of pitch black ink. The ink cloud’s radius was incredible. Not even the Dark Tower’s pinnacle reached above it.

 **“Oxygen Homing!”** The best Submarimon could do was fire blindly into the tenebrous mess. The torpedoes entered the ink cloud, but the hoped for explosion didn’t come. What did emerge were the Hangyomon, three of them, with their harpoons at the ready.

“We need a new plan, dagyaa.”

Iori nodded in agreement. The Hangyomon didn’t look very intimidating, but they were still Perfect-level Digimon, and nothing to be taken lightly.

“Can you get around them?” Iori asked.

“I can try, dagyaa,” Submarimon replied, jerking suddenly to the left as the first of the thrown spears cleaved towards him through the water. The second spear was thrown, and Submarimon managed to avoid this one as well, but could not maneuver wholly out of the way of the third, which had been hurled a split second after the second. The weapon glanced off the top of his glass dome, causing Iori to wince.

**“Hydro Jet!”**

Once again, Iori had to hold tight to the handles in front of him as Submarimon accelerated, blasting through the water with the added propulsion of his rear jets. Instead of moving straight upwards as he had the previous time, Submarimon steered hard to the right, arcing around the ink enshrouded Dark Tower and leaving the surprised Hangyomon far behind him.

“We’ll have to do this fast, before they catch up,” Iori warned him. As the boy finished speaking, Submarimon had come to the far side of the cloud. He let off on his jets and turned towards where the Dark Tower should be. As he approached, there was a sudden swirl within the dark mass, and a great plume of ink rushed outwards as Octmon fired at them from inside.

Submarimon saw the attack coming, but chose not to dodge. The Octmon was behind that black jet, and the Dark Tower would surely be beyond. It was a good plan, but he had underestimated the power of the enemy’s attack. Iori was rendered blind as the ink engulfed them both, and heard Submarimon’s yell, hoarse with pain, in the blackness.

The corrosive substance began to eat away at Submarimon’s shell on contact, but he drove onward, through the black pain, and plunged into the obscuring cloud.

**“Submarine Attack!”**

The Octmon had not moved. Submarimon hadn’t dodged, and the thing must have at least thought that he wouldn’t plunge right through the attack. The drill on Submarimon’s snout passed through the Octmon’s clay helmet as it would through cheese. It cleaved the thing’s bulbous head in half, went through the back wall of the helmet, and finally lodged itself in an alien material that could only be the Dark Tower.

Iori, now enshrouded not in the blackness of ink but the blackness within Octmon’s body, saw a blinding, ice-blue glare. The cloud of ink was instantly dispersed, and the Octmon dissolved into the water. Submarimon rocked backwards from the force of the explosion, flipped end over end.

By the time he had regained control, and human and Digimon looked once more across the underwater plain where the various battles had so lately raged, silence reigned. The underwater town was still there, free now of Dark Towers, but there was no sign of the enemy. Hangyomon, Octmon, and Gesomon had all vanished. Most of the defenders had gone too. Only a few scattered individuals cruised dazedly and aimlessly among the ruins of their home.


	24. Approaching Flames

_“‘Blind your eyes, mystic serpent… Blind your eyes to the moonlight and open them on darker gulfs! What do you see, oh serpent of Set? Whom do you call from the gulfs of the Night? Whose shadow falls on the waning Light? Call him to me, oh serpent of Set!’” – Robert E. Howard, “The Phoenix on the Sword”_

Burning winds swept outwards, firing the trees of the forest below, and leaving the two combatants revealed once more. Holsmon felt somewhat drained, but his opponent would never have known it from looking at him. Sethmon, on the other hand, was openly panting, with murder in his red eyes. The agent of Hate pulled himself together, and prepared for another charge. Holsmon, however, still had long range attacks in reserve.

**“Red Sun!”** The beams found their mark, blasting into Sethmon’s stomach. He was blown backwards as raw energy continued to pour from Holsmon’s eyes. He struck the side of the stone structure, then rolled down the wall’s angle and landed heavily on one of the outcroppings as Holsmon ceased his attack.

Holsmon took the opportunity to look around for his comrades and Coatlmon, but they were gone. The flames from Sethmon’s attack were leaping quickly from tree to tree. He realized that before long the fire would develop into an impressive conflagration, and that meant Miyako was in trouble. Without a second glance at Sethmon, Holsmon dove down towards the forest.

***

Coatlmon hovered forward. Miyako crouched in indecision by the downed Nefertimon, knowing she should run, but also knowing that she would never forgive herself for it.

“Out of the way, girl. The Chosen Children are wanted alive.”

Miyako didn’t move. She wondered if this decision would be the end of her, but her face remained defiant. As Coatlmon paused, considering her, she felt Nefertimon shift again under her hands. The Digimon turned her head, looked at Coatlmon.

**“Curse of Queen.”** The attack caught the winged serpent wholly by surprise. Coatlmon had been worried about Fossil Wave’s efficacy at first, but after it had surpassed his expectations he had not been expecting it to wear off. The beams of light struck him on the chin, whipping his head back and drawing a hissing screech of pain from him.

Nefertimon struggled to regain her feet, but was still sluggish from the paralysis. Before she was able to stand Coatlmon had turned back to face her. Nefertimon’s attack had cracked his integument. His only facial features were his eyes, but they were enough to convey his rage. His wings flapped once, violently.

“No! **Fossil Wave!** ”

Nefertimon’s head dropped again to the ground, her neck muscles suddenly unresponsive. Miyako also felt a strange, not painful but not at all pleasant sensation pass through her. Her limbs grew heavy, unresponsive, hard to move. And Coatlmon wasn’t done.

**“Fossil Wave!”**

There was another flap of the wings, another strange feeling, and Miyako was completely immobile.

**“Fossil Wave!”**

Now there was an almost painful tightness throughout her body. The edges of her vision began to darken. Nefertimon lay perfectly still.

“Resist now…” Coatlmon hissed, and then paused. He was panting now. A great shudder ran the length of his body. _What is wrong?_ he thought. _I should not be out of energy so quickly. I was only hit once._ He stretched, trying to regain his composure.

Then came the crash of snapping branches above, and Coatlmon, startled, twisted his head around to see the cause. In doing so he noticed, in a sort of subconscious way, that the forest was burning in the direction the sound had come from. Consciously, all of his focus was on the red and silver shape that was barreling towards him.

**“Mach Impulse!”**

Coatlmon spent the last second of his life debating in no coherent terms between fight and flight. Then the blade of crimson energy sheared through his sinuous body a ways below the head. For a few moments more there was a blind thrashing in the underbrush before the two halves of the serpent disintegrated.

“Miyako-san?” Holsmon hovered in midair. He could see that something was wrong with his partner. She didn’t respond to him, or even move. Nefertimon too was motionless, and he wondered for a moment if she might be unconscious. Looking around, he spotted Hikari some distance away, lying on the forest floor. She seemed to be starting to recover from her paralysis; her limbs moving slowly as she tried to pull herself off the ground.

Holsmon felt the heat of the approaching fire at his back. They would have to get out of here quickly, but he didn’t see how he could move them all to safety. He searched his mind frantically for a solution. But he was interrupted.

**“Tusk Driver!”**

There was a flash of brilliant pain as Sethmon’s tusks buried themselves in Holsmon’s flank. Sethmon may have been worn out from the stress of the battle, and the attack may not have hit with the full force that a fresh, unharmed Digimon might have given it, but that pain was still the worst that Holsmon could recall ever having felt.

“There…” Sethmon managed to get the words out between each heaving pant. “You…can’t…counter…that.”

Holsmon remained silent after his initial hoarse scream. All of his focus was on retaining his form. He could feel the familiar drain of energy that usually preceded reversion to a lower evolutionary level. As Hawkmon he wouldn’t have any chance against Sethmon, even if the evil Digimon was as bad off as he sounded, and Miyako would not be able to help him evolve again. 

A pained grunt was drawn from Holsmon as Sethmon’s tusks shifted and were removed from his side. With them seemed to go the last of his power, and soon Hawkmon, like his three friends, lay prostrate. Sethmon lowered his feet to the ground. By now the spicy scent of burning lumber filled the air, and smoke was beginning to drift among the five beings. Sethmon laughed – a low, throaty sound.

“I…won’t even need…to finish you at…this rate… Between my tusks…and Coatlmon’s…Fossil Wave…neither of you are getting up… And you’ll burn.” He glanced at Miyako, who lay motionless half across Nefertimon’s side, and realized that he would have to transport the humans himself, before they were also consumed. Sato had been very clear about how upset he would be if they were killed. But Sethmon knew that moving them on his own would be tricky. He would need the Bakemon’s help. Without time to hesitate, he ascended again, passing above the trees’ canopy.

Once he had gone, Hikari got shakily to her feet. The paralysis had worn off some time ago, but she hadn’t wanted to attract Sethmon’s attention by making a move. Now she picked her way over to the place where her three friends lay. She reached Hawkmon first, and put a tentative hand on him, at which he stirred weakly and rolled half over to look at her.

“Hikari-san… Is Miyako-san…?”

Hikari gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile, then approached Nefertimon and Miyako.

“Nefertimon? Miyako?”

Neither moved nor responded. Hikari turned Miyako over to face her. Hawkmon’s partner was still alive, but had no control over her muscular system. She did still have full use of her senses, and was glad to know that the others were still living as well, though her body still ached and her eyes were being tortured by her inability to blink.

Hikari racked her brains, trying to think of a way to restore them. Inevitably she kept returning to one conclusion: she would just have to wait until the paralysis wore off. But by then, Sethmon may have returned, or the fire may have already consumed them. But like Miyako before her, Hikari determined that she would stay regardless. She would not abandon her friends here, when they had never abandoned her.

She knelt beside her partner, opposite Miyako, and buried her face in Nefertimon’s fur.

“Please… Nefertimon. Please.” She willed her partner to move. “Please, Tailmon.” That was when it came to her. Their final chance. Nefertimon was paralyzed – but would Tailmon be? “Nefertimon!” Hikari said. “If you can hear me, please go back to being Tailmon!”

Nefertimon could hear, and knew that though her body was frozen, she could, if she chose, release the power of the Digimental.

A yellow glow surrounded them all for an instant, and when it subsided Tailmon had taken Nefertimon’s place. And – joy welled up in Hikari as her partner began to move. Groggily at first, yes, but within a short amount of time the feline Digimon had regained complete control of her muscles. Tailmon looked up at her partner and smiled warmly. Warmly – that was a good way to describe it after Coatlmon’s ice and Sethmon’s flames.

There was a heavy thud several yards away from them, as Sethmon dropped to the ground. A group of Bakemon emerged from the treetops and took up positions around him. His body was almost black against the flames of the burning forest, an illustration for Dante’s Inferno.

“That’s enough,” he growled. “You won’t…get up…after this.”

As he spoke, Hawkmon dragged himself to his feet and whispered to Tailmon.

“I got a solid hit in his stomach… That may be why he’s struggling.”

Tailmon nodded in response, her expression now blank, inscrutable. With a roar, the emissary of Hate shot forward, clawed forepaws extended, ready to crush the life out of them. It was at that moment that Tailmon raced ahead, almost too quick for the eye to follow, and slid directly beneath him.

**“Neko Punch!”** Tailmon’s claws ripped upwards into Sethmon’s gut, and sliced deep. He let out a scream and lost forward momentum, crashing ungracefully into the earth, coming to a stop at Hawkmon’s feet. The meaningless Crest of Love burned on his helmet.

“It can’t be,” he choked, then went limp, and dissolved into nothingness. Hikari looked about, and saw that the Bakemon had fled the area. She ran over to Miyako. The older girl was finally beginning to overcome Coatlmon’s paralysis, but still needed Hikari’s support in getting to her feet.

Tailmon scampered over to the other three, unspeakably thankful that the return of her Holy Ring meant the full return of her former offensive powers.

“I’ll Armor Evolve again,” she said to Hikari. “We need to get out before the fire grows any more than it already has.”


	25. Aftermath

_“The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Call of Cthulhu”_

The day was wearing on. Takeru tensed when two objects broke the surface of the waves, then relaxed when he saw that it was Submarimon and one of the gray orca-like Digimon Iori had described. Submarimon’s hatch rose, and Iori stood up.

“Takeru-san! Pegasmon! The fight’s over. Could you come down here?”

The airborne pair descended, so that Pegasmon’s hoofs hovered just above the water. As they drew closer, they could see that Submarimon wasn’t looking too good. The surface of his body looked darker than usual, tarnished.

“Are you alright, Submarimon?” Pegasmon asked.

“I’m fine, dagyaa.”

“We had to get through Octmon’s ink to destroy the last Dark Tower,” Iori explained. “By the way—” He turned to the gray sea Digimon bobbing next to them. “This is Orcamon. He lives in the town.”

Orcamon turned his cloudy green eyes upwards to look at Pegasmon and his rider. He nodded slowly before speaking.

“The town is called Poseidonis,” he said, then looked back down at the water for a moment, saying nothing. “It was called Poseidonis.”

“I asked Orcamon to tell us what happened down there,” Iori said. Turning again to the Digimon, “Do you know who attacked Poseidonis?”

“No,” Orcamon answered, “but this isn’t the first time. We’ve heard of other towns that they’ve attacked.” He let out a heavy sigh. “It’s always the same. The Dark Towers appear from nowhere, and those Digimon come with them.” He blinked several times. “Most of my friends are gone… They took the little ones first. Like the Shakomon and the Ganimon.”

“Orcamon…” There was compassion in Iori’s tone. “Where did everyone go when the last Dark Tower was destroyed?”

Orcamon shook his head, a little violently. His eyes seemed clearer afterwards, and he spoke more quickly.

“There was a blue light from the tower. The enemies held on to those of us who were already beaten, and the light covered them…” Then, with awe in his voice, “And they were gone.”

“The enemy… took your friends with them?” Takeru asked.

“Yes… If only Neptunemon…”

“Neptunemon?” Submarimon asked.

“Neptunemon rules this ocean,” Orcamon answered. “But he hasn’t done anything to help us.”

Takeru and Iori looked at each other.

“I’ve never heard of him,” Takeru said.

“Well, I guess we haven’t done much in the ocean,” Iori pointed out. “We just got the Digimental of Sincerity and tried to protect the Holy Stone that was underwater.”

“Only ocean Digimon know about him,” Orcamon said. “He stays in his palace in the deepest part of the ocean. We haven’t seen him or heard from him in a long time, but we know he’s still there. Maybe… maybe he forgot about us, or doesn’t care.”

“I don’t understand what the enemy would want so many Digimon for,” Iori said.

“Takeru,” Pegasmon spoke up, “Do you remember Arkham and Kingsport? The Digimon there disappeared when the Dark Towers showed up. Do you think they were taken, too?”

Takeru thought about it. It was a plausible enough explanation. But why? As he had in Kingsport, Takeru thought back to his dream on the second night. Angemon tortured, unable to die. Was that what these Digimon were being used for? He told himself that the thought was ridiculous. His partner was safe; the nightmare had not come to pass. He shouldn’t put too much stock in it. That’s what he kept telling himself.

***

The evolution to Nefertimon had gone as planned. She carried both humans and the wounded Hawkmon on her back, out of the forest and out of reach of the flames which were consuming it. Hikari was worried at first that they might be too much of a burden, but the Fossil Wave did not seem to have had any lasting ill effects.

“I’m sure there is a Dark Tower inside that strange building,” Hawkmon said.

“Yes,” Nefertimon agreed. “We really should destroy it before going home.”

“I think this should be our last one today,” Miyako said. “The sun will be going down soon, and Hawkmon…”

“I’m fine, Miyako-san, really.”

Anyone could see that it was a blatant misrepresentation, but Miyako admired him for it.

“Well, anyway, we should meet back up with the others soon. Oh! That reminds me. We should probably let them know we’re alright.”

By this time they had landed once more on one of the outcroppings.

“Can you walk, Hawkmon?” Miyako had been holding him in her arms as they flew, but now let him go. He landed on the stone platform, wincing as the pain flared up again in his side, and hoped that no one noticed.

“I’ll be okay,” he assured her. Nefertimon reverted to Tailmon, and the four of them walked once again into the shadowy tunnel.

“I hope there aren’t any more Bakemon in here,” said Miyako.

“I’m sure they’ve run off now that Coatlmon and Sethmon are dead,” Tailmon replied. For a while they walked on in silence. No matter how far into the structure they progressed, there always seemed to be enough light to see by, but the shadows were thick nonetheless. None of them were exactly relishing the experience, but Hikari liked it least. In the dark, one begins to think of unpleasant things. Since recovering from the paralysis, Hikari had been too caught up in the situation to do much reflecting, but not so, now.

_Wanted alive._ Coatlmon’s words played themselves over and over again in her mind. He had uttered them as she lay on the forest floor, immobile, and for several minutes she had suffered all the torments of the nightmares until Holsmon had come to their rescue. _Wanted alive._

Lying there, helpless, she had thought back to the first time she had entered the Dark World, in June of 2002. One the things that had looked like Hangyomon seized her arm, and had spoken to her. Only she had heard what it said; Angewomon was still aloft after destroying the Airdramon, and Takeru and Patamon were halfway across the beach. It was darkly ironic that she had been in fifth grade at the time, the school year they had taken sexual education classes.

Her friends and brother hadn’t questioned her too closely concerning what had happened on the shores of the Dark Ocean. They could see that she didn’t want to talk about it, and so left the subject alone after learning only the most general details. When asked what the things had wanted, she had falteringly made up a story, said that they wanted help overthrowing their ruler (or something like that, none of them had talked about it in a long time). She didn’t tell them that the things had really wanted to – to –

_Wanted alive._ She didn’t know what the fate of the others would be if any of them were ever captured, but she was sickeningly sure about what she was wanted for.

They continued walking, and as they progressed the floor sloped downwards, so gradually at first as to not be noticeable, but growing increasingly steep. Tailmon was the first to come to the end of the trail. The Dark Tower was there, as they had expected. It was standing in a cubical room whose ceiling was just high enough to leave room for it. The room was somewhat brighter than the rest of the structure, and they could see small square holes scattered about the ceiling, letting traces of sunlight in. Thanks to this faint luminance they could see that the room’s walls were carved into a complex pattern, a confusing tangle of serpents and octopuses.

“I don’t like this place,” Miyako said. “Let’s take care of this thing and get out of here.”

***

“You’ve given up on the Digimentals, then?” the Dark Man asked.

“Not entirely,” Sato Katsu said. “Knowing how to produce that kind of energy will be very useful to us. However, Sethmon and Coatlmon fared much more poorly than I expected. They ran out of energy much too quickly, and their attack and defense weren’t at the level we needed. Perhaps the power generated is not entirely independent of the Crests after all.” He averted his face from the main screen and looked at the Dark Man.

“Where is Anubimon? We will need more Dark Towers to make up for those destroyed today. Lilithmon and her followers may have entered the human world, but it is still best to keep the barriers thin.”

“I’ll find him,” the Dark Man said. “I’m glad you aren’t feeling discouraged, Sato-kun. The day was certainly not a waste, with a troop of Digimon in the human world. And just how many generators are you up to now?”

“Almost nine full rows,” Sato answered. He smiled for just a moment, long enough to add, “It won’t be long now.”

***

Indeed no, not long. The Dark Man had taken his leave of Sato, and put Anubimon back to work. Routine. But his visit to Wisemon was the high point of the evening. There was something special about that one. Every day he grew more powerful, more knowledgeable, absorbing all the arcana the Dark Man put before him with astonishing ease.

Standing on a rooftop, the Dark Man looked out over the wonderful city of Tokyo as the sun sank behind him in the west and the shadows that clung about his features grew darker still. He leaned over the rail of the roof and stretched a hand out over the pedestrian-filled streets below. He smiled as he felt each headache, chest pain, and sudden chill spring to life in the people who passed beneath his open palm.

The Dark Man laughed. Child’s play! But Wisemon would provide the opportunity for some real entertainment. It wouldn’t be long.


	26. Sunset

_“‘I look at that deep glow on the panes, and the house lies all enchanted; that very room, I tell you, is within all blood and fire.’” – Arthur Machen,_ The Three Imposters

The Chosen Children had returned to the human world just before the sun began to set, the three groups emerging from Izumi Koshiro’s computer after destroying their last Dark Tower for the day. Each was eager to share its experiences with the other two. Daisuke and Ken’s group was first to arrive, and Koshiro was able to use the Digimon Analyzer on his computer, in conjunction with Daisuke’s D-3, to identify Imperialdramon’s opponents as Sangloupmon, Adult-level Digimon.

“You’re kidding!” Daisuke exclaimed. “They almost beat Paildramon!”

“There’s something odd about this Digimon’s data,” Koshiro said. “X-Antibody… I don’t know what it means, but it may be the reason for their unusual power levels.”

“Things are only getting harder,” Ken observed darkly, then sank back into quiet thought.

The X-Antibody was only the first of the evening’s surprises. When the girls’ group returned, everyone gathered was astonished to hear of the use to which the enemy had put the powers of the Digimentals. Miyako pointed out that there was some comfort in the fact that Coatlmon and Sethmon had become overwhelmed unusually quickly. Without the complications of Coatlmon’s Fossil Wave the battle may have been no challenge at all.

This did little to improve Ken’s mood, however. The Chosen Children’s enemies were in command of forces no previous foe had wielded. They were apparently able not only to move between the human and digital worlds, but had full access to the Dark World as well. They could utilize the children’s Digimentals without actually possessing the artifacts. They even seemed capable of controlling dreams. Ken knew that the Chosen would have to find some way to turn the tide of battle, and soon, before the constant attacks, both physical and mental, wore them down and crushed them all.

As on the previous day, Takeru and Iori were the last of the children to return. They had left Orcamon and his companions at Poseidonis, though the Digimon told them that they would be migrating to another of the underwater settlements. They would not be able to defend Poseidonis against another attack, and, conversely, the inhabitants of the other town would be glad for the influx of new potential defenders.

After everyone was familiar with the events of the day, they prepared to go their separate ways. The day was not quite over yet, and many of them were in need of some quiet time in familiar surroundings before the night’s onslaught of dream terrors commenced. Miyako waited while Takeru and Iori had a brief talk with Koshiro, asking him to see if Gennai knew anything about a Digimon called Neptunemon, then the three walked together back to their apartment building.

***

Jun was home when Daisuke got back to the Motomiya family’s apartment, sitting with Caprimon, watching television while her partner enjoyed a slice of watermelon. Daisuke wasn’t in a talkative mood, and his sister was the last person he wanted to talk to, so he ignored them both and carried Chicomon directly into his bedroom.

Once inside, Daisuke lay down on the bed, his partner sitting on his stomach. He put his hands behind his head and thought over the events of the day, that damn wolf, and what the others had learned in their fights. By nature, Daisuke was an optimist. He never lost hope, and almost never faltered in the face of a challenge. Everyone else seemed so tired and worried. Those nightmares were getting to them. Daisuke hadn’t slept well the night before, but still hadn’t dreamed.

“Chicomon?”

“Mm?”

“Have you had any dreams lately?”

Chicomon thought for a while.

“I don’t remember any.”

Come to think of it, Daisuke had not only been free of nightmares the past few nights, but really hadn’t dreamed at all that he could remember. There were feelings of unease in the night, and he woke up less refreshed than usual, but no dreams at all. Now Chicomon said he didn’t remember any either. Did it mean something? Ken or Koshiro might be able to see that it did, but Daisuke couldn’t.

“I feel…” he began, but then trailed off. Chicomon hopped down to the bed’s surface and bounced up to Daisuke’s head.

“What do you feel like?”

“I don’t know… Guilty, I guess? No… I mean, everyone’s having nightmares but me. I wish I could have some of them for them. You know what I mean?”

Chicomon’s expression grew slightly more serious, and he performed what might be considered a nod.

“Yeah, I think so,” he said.

***

After taking his leave of Iori and Miyako, Takeru opened the door to his apartment and stepped into silence. It was not fully dark yet. He removed his shoes, trying to keep his head as still as possible for Patamon’s benefit as the Digimon balanced atop his hat. There was no sign of Natsuko. Takeru found her when he glanced in the open door to the computer room. Apparently she had fallen asleep at the computer; her head lay cradled in her arms on the desk.

The corners of Takeru’s mouth turned upwards briefly. His mother had been working hard recently, trying to keep up with official and unofficial inquiries into the Digimon-related incidents of the previous year. Although – his smile faded – it was odd that she would fall asleep so early. He stepped into the room, intending to wake her, but then stopped as he noticed two neat piles of paper sitting on the floor next to her chair.

What caught his attention was a single word embedded in the header of a pile’s topmost paper. His mother had told him yesterday about her work on recent unusual seismic activity, and he saw that the top paper was a printed news article concerning the odd earthquakes. He squatted to examine the article more closely.

Patamon flapped off of his partner’s head and descended to the floor, saying nothing.

Takeru skimmed through the rest of the article, but didn’t learn much that his mother hadn’t already told him over dinner the previous evening. The entirety of the pile was dedicated to news articles about the quakes, and seismological records. He glanced over at the other pile.

Now this was puzzling. At the top of this second pile was another article, but its topic had nothing to do with earthquakes. The article was brief, just a matter-of-fact report of an unusual suicide in Yokohama. A sixteen-year-old boy had awakened his parents and neighbors with a scream just before rushing out onto the apartment’s balcony and throwing himself over the rail. Suicides in Japan are unfortunately nothing rare, but the senseless and sudden nature of this particular death had brought it to the media’s attention.

The articles below the first were equally morbid, though he didn’t do much more than skim them. There were a number of murders and kidnappings related, stretching back a few months in time. One of the articles seemed to provide a summary of the recent increases in crime. It didn’t provide any explanation for the growing number of incidents, though police were cited as saying that a gang of foreigners (probably Chinese) was likely the cause.

Takeru would have read more, but Natsuko began to stir and murmur. Her son stood up and laid a hand on her back.

“Mom?”

She looked up at him, and her sleepy eyes came quickly into focus.

“Oh, Takeru. I’m sorry… I didn’t notice you were home.” She stood and stretched. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Just… haven’t been sleeping well, and…” Her eyes fell on Patamon. “I see Patamon’s back to normal.”

Takeru smiled and opened his arms to his partner, who fluttered up and into them. In a few words, mother and son told each other what they were expected to about their day. Takeru was walking out of the computer room and back into the hallway ahead of his mother when she spoke up again.

“Takeru, Patamon is always with you, isn’t he?”

Takeru turned around and looked at her, his expression still amiable, but his eyes searching.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“It’s my job to protect him,” Patamon chirped.

Natsuko smiled. The thought of this little creature keeping her son safe seemed farfetched, but she knew from experience how deceiving appearances could be, especially when it came to Digimon.

“I’m thankful for it,” she said.

The three of them left the room and began preparing for dinner. Takeru thought back every once in a while to what he had read, and to his mother’s apparent concern. Earthquakes, kidnappings, a nocturnal suicide? The Digital World had been plagued by unusual quakes for months; now the phenomenon was beginning in the human world. He didn’t know why the two piles of articles kept tugging at him so insistently, but he didn’t like it.

Later that night, as he prepared for bed, he thought one more time of that boy who killed himself. _Had he been sleeping?_ The question kept coming back to him. _Had he been sleeping?_ Sudden and senseless. No reason that anyone knew of, just a scream in the dark and a rush into oblivion.

***

“The sun is down,” Hiraga Ayaki said. “Sato-san asked me to send you out one at a time. He said he didn’t want you traveling as a group. He wants you spread out, to cause more confusion.”

“No need for one at a time,” said Lilithmon. “We’ll go now. Each of us will take a different direction.”

Hiraga let it pass. He wasn’t about to argue with these things over something so small. The six of them, some almost human but all disturbingly different, crowded into the oversized, custom-built elevator. The doors closed and they shot upwards, towards the roof, leaving BlackTailmon alone with the humans.

The feline Digimon found her hosts fascinating. Sato had made the right choice in sending her as his Trojan horse; her curiosity would ensure that the job was done enthusiastically. After meeting Hikari, and surreptitiously watching the two human girls’ fight with Bastemon, she had been looking forward to observing the creatures more closely. Sato’s order to accompany Lilithmon had come as a pleasant, exciting surprise.

“Did Sato-san say what he wanted me to do?” she asked Hiraga. He looked down at her quickly. Truth be told he had forgotten that she was present.

“Oh, you can go wherever, as long as you check back in after sunrise. Don’t talk or stand on your back legs, don’t forget how to get back here, and stay away from those eleven kids.”

The instant he finished talking she took off down the hall to the elevator, ready to begin her evening.


	27. New Dark

_“Then a gasp as from many throats, and a babel of barked and bleated words – ‘Lilith, Great Lilith, behold the Bridegroom!’” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Horror at Red Hook”_

The wedding of Suzuki Kaito and Gensai Rei had taken place in a hotel’s wedding chapel. It had been a Western-style affair, and had, as expected, ended fairly early. The rest of the day was taken up with celebrations in various locations around the city, these celebrations including several hours’ worth of dinner at an upscale restaurant, and, just as night began to fall, a cruise through Tokyo Bay. It had been a pleasant day for Kaito, but tiring in the extreme, and he eventually escaped friends and family on the pretense of using the restroom.

He examined his face a while in the mirror above the sink, realized after a while that he did need to use the facilities after all, did so, then lit a cigarette. He was just turning to rejoin the party when the door opened. From where Kaito stood he could only see the hand of the person opening the door, and was surprised to see long purple nails on their fingers. He opened his mouth to warn the woman that she had the wrong room, but wound up saying nothing, though his mouth remained open.

There were two reasons for his silence. First of all, the woman was dressed very oddly. A sort of half robe, rich purple in color, covered her from the waist down. Her upper body was clothed in what seemed to be black rubber, of all things. He had never seen someone dressed so strangely, and wondered how he had possibly missed seeing her on board before now.

The second reason the words died in his throat was that she was stunningly beautiful. Full lips, painted violet like the fingernails, deep blue eyes, their expression inviting, her figure… Kaito stood silent as she slipped through the doorway. She raised the hand that had opened the door, her left hand, palm upwards, and slowly closed her fingers. Kaito staggered forward and stopped directly in front of her, his body quivering. Had he not been so bewitched he would have noticed some additional oddities about her that he had not seen at first glance – the ornate horned headdress, the black batwings.

The woman dropped her left arm to her side and raised the right. Kaito, who did not have much idea at that moment of where he was or what he had spent the day doing, noticed the movement but did not turn his head to look at her hand, instead keeping his gaze locked on her face and body. Vaguely he had the impression that she was about to stroke his left cheek. He was right, but – her hand was so cold and hard.

And painful.

With a smile and a whirl she was gone, leaving Kaito alone. His face _hurt_. It _burned_. He shot up a hand and touched his cheek as the woman had done, simultaneously turning again towards the mirror. His fingers felt something like the blackened skin of a hotdog, and as the pain burrowed deeper into the side of his face he removed his hand and saw what was happening to him. He screamed and bolted from the restroom, cold tingling giving way to hot pain in his fingertips.

Kaito careened off a wall and staggered onto the deck, where he fell among a group of his friends, drawing more yells and screams as they watched his flesh rot and shrivel. There was no one with medical knowledge on board, and it might not have made a difference if there had been. In several minutes little remained of the groom, whose life had ended partway through the process.

Only one of the passengers overheard, among the shouts and confusion, a woman’s shrill laugh drift over the dark waters of the bay.

***

Iori was not the first of the six youngest Chosen Children to fall asleep that night, but he was the first to dream. He didn’t realize that he was asleep at first. Unconsciousness fed so slowly into an awareness of being that when he found himself once more within Submarimon’s cockpit he did not question how he had gotten there. As to what they were doing, they were going to see Neptunemon, to upbraid him for ignoring the plight of his subjects.

They had never been this deep before. The sunlight barely filtered through to their location, and the water surrounding them was so dark that it was hard to see. Submarimon continued to descend, wordlessly. Iori thought it very strange that it was so dark so near to Neptunemon’s palace. He expected that the king of the ocean would live surrounded by beauty, which, even if it was a type of beauty strange to land-dwellers, would not be so devoid of light.

“Submarimon, are we sure this is the right area?”

His partner was silent.

“Submarimon?”

No answer.

“Submarimon, why won’t you—” He stopped as the ocean floor came into view. Some distance away, Iori could just make out a black mass, topped with towers and turrets. There was no light shining from within. Nearer to them was something else, an intricate symbol carved into the seabed.

Submarimon did not slow in his descent, or change direction to make for Neptunemon’s darkened castle. Iori was going to try another question when it occurred to him that this entire time his partner had never once adjusted his speed or direction, and had remained quiet. Quiet – it was very quiet. Iori couldn’t even hear the familiar whir of Submarimon’s propeller, or feel the vibration it usually caused. Was his partner even conscious?

“Submarimon!” The boy tried for several moments to rouse some kind of response, but then turned his eyes downwards once more as the silence was broken by a rumbling that seemed to rise suddenly from beneath the earth. He gasped when he saw that the gigantic design in the ocean’s floor appeared to be moving. A few more seconds of closer watching revealed that it was not just moving; it was disappearing. At a rapid rate made slow by its size, the symbol was apparently erasing itself.

They had now sunk very close to the seafloor, and soon Iori could discern a network of cracks and fissures appearing and spreading across the flooded earth. One grew particularly wide, and shot off towards the castle. With a shuddering crash, the building’s towers began to fall, and its walls to split.

Another event coincided with the palace’s destruction. As in the seabed and the palace walls, a crack began to appear in the glass of Submarimon’s dome.

“Submarimon, wake up!”

It must be the water pressure. If they continued to descend, they would be crushed like a soda can. Iori began to pound on the surface he was laying on, but there was no conscious response, only a sickening crunch somewhere behind and below him. Soon the dome was a spider web of cracks, but there was still a large enough portion of it intact for Iori to be able to look out, along the length of Submarimon’s drill, and watch the destruction of the ground beneath them as the great symbol vanished, and the earth disintegrated to reveal oozing blackness.

Within moments they would plunge into that unending dark, but in the last moment there was a final crash, the glass dome shattered, and Iori, in a burst of agony that left him gasping in his bed, felt himself pulverized as water, dark, and shards poured in and devoured him.

***

The three boys, Taro, Hideyoshi, and Daijiro, had killed a few hours at Leisureland before deciding to head home for the night. They were middle school students making the most of their summer break, staying out as late as they wanted and wandering the oversized playground that is Odaiba. Not having anywhere to be tomorrow, they had taken their time in getting back to their apartments. While with their friends, they didn’t mind walking.

It was a perfectly normal night as they approached the footbridge, but normality ended when the bulbs in the streetlights began to explode. At that moment the night sky seemed to come alive above them, and Daijiro could just make out in the gloom a swarm of bats pouring through the air. Wherever one of the creatures collided with a streetlight there was a flash of violet flame, and the bulbs would shatter, spitting glass into the street.

The boys heard several exclamations from other pedestrians as the lights went out and the bats continued on their way, slamming into the roof of the footbridge and ending their existence in a violet inferno. Taro, who had put his hands over his head when the event began, looked up once the bats had passed, and was the first to see the dark shape that descended from the sky and landed between the three boys and the covered bridge.

Hideyoshi and Daijiro noticed the silent figure, and the former took a step forward, trying to make out any details in the newly fallen darkness. A low laugh was heard, and Hideyoshi realized that the figure was a woman, dressed in black, but with skin so pale that it was the first thing he could see in the dark.

“L-Let’s go back,” Taro whispered. He had seen the woman’s arrival, and was understandably unnerved. He took his own advice, backing slowly away from the woman and the footbridge behind her. Daijiro heard him and turned towards his friend to ask why, and that was when the figure sprang into motion.

**“Stun Whip!”** The woman’s right arm swung outward, and the chain wrapped around it shot forward as if alive. Hideyoshi was caught around the throat, and the chain wound itself around his neck. Bruises sprang up where the links impacted the flesh, but before he realized what had happened an electrical current passed through the length of the chain. Hideyoshi’s muscles locked up, and he was pulled to the ground as the woman jerked her wrist.

That was it for Taro; he turned and bolted. Daijiro fumbled for his cell phone, his shaking fingers trying to dial 110, the emergency number. His feet remained frozen; he didn’t want to leave Hideyoshi, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to try and help him. Eventually the number was dialed, but before he could speak into the phone the woman had disengaged her chain from Hideyoshi’s limp body, and sped towards Daijiro, her right arm a crimson-tipped lance.

***

Hiraga was still in the underground room. More and more his employers would relegate him to what he mentally called sitting duty. He didn’t complain. The pay was too good. But he found himself wondering increasingly often why they bothered to keep him employed at all. Besides spying on the children they were interested in, all he did was, well, sit. Monitoring the group’s network, using various resources to keep them up to date on news from the media, from a large number of foreign groups, from the Japanese government, from the Yakuza…

Why?

They had other people more than capable of handling these jobs, and greeting Digimon. He seemed so unnecessary. It was great being paid for doing next to nothing, but it was unusual, and the unusual worried him. Hiraga had not suffered from any of the nightmares which had afflicted the general population for the past few days, but he had been told by his employers that they were occurring, and he had heard enough gossip to know that the group was telling the truth. That was more than unusual. There was always a small voice in the back of his mind: _Ayaki, you are going to regret dealing with these people. Who knows how far this is going to go?_

The police were being flooded with emergency calls now, as the Digimon struck one by one. No one was safe, awake or asleep. The nightmares weren’t just in the mind anymore, Hiraga thought to himself. It was going to be a very long night.


	28. Repetition

_“Death would be a boon if only it could blot out the memories.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Call of Cthulhu”_

The six eldest Chosen Children had been spared the rigors of battle over the past few days, but they had not been spared the dreams that also plagued their juniors. Taichi, for example, had the uniquely unpleasant experience of seeing his younger sister come home each day looking wearier than the previous, watching her go reluctantly to her bedroom, and then lying awake with the knowledge that both of them would soon be plunged, each alone, into a private hell.

Takenouchi Sora slept in a building adjacent to that of the Yagami siblings, and like them, she dreamed. The past few nights had been largely the same for her. There would be wet darkness, like the inside of a storm cloud, but close and confining. In these dreams Sora moved at times through a labyrinth of rock and at other times was forced to swim through black waters. Waking up the next morning was the only way she ever escaped from these visions.

Tonight, however, the dream was different. Sora dreamed that she awoke. She was not lying on her futon; this surface was hard and cold. Sitting fully up or even shifting to a more comfortable position was impossible due to the steel bands pinning her wrists and ankles. She realized with a thrill of apprehension that she had been here before, four years ago. The room was dark, unlike last time, but she remembered it well.

The first time Sora had entered the Digital World, back in 1999, she had been kidnapped by Nanomon to aid in his vengeance against Etemon. She had called Taichi’s name, just after Nanomon, holding her and the unconscious body of her partner, had passed through the false segment of the electrified wall. The one scream was all she had managed before her captor had fastened his hand more securely around her mouth. She had heard a faint hissing sound, had immediately begun to feel faint, within seconds passed out entirely, and had awakened in the same position she now found herself in four years later.

After a few moments of silence a low hum began to grow in the room. Lights began to appear on the control panel opposite her, and the gigantic screen above it started to flicker. When blank, it had been a deep green in color, but now that the screen was active it had darkened and turned almost black.

After several minutes of tense waiting and watching, Sora thought she could see darker shapes moving on the screen, but could not make out what they might be. It dawned on her that there was now another sound in the room, distinct from the hum of the machinery. It sounded like whispering. Were the shapes talking to each other? After a while she was able to make out words, but they made little sense.

“…seals are fading…”

“…see something…”

“…can feel…”

“…first! The first…”

“…into another…”

Suddenly the whispers ceased, and the constellations of black shapes scattered and left the screen. Slowly, a brighter spot swam into view. It was yellowish, and nearly circular, but with a circle of darkest black at its center. It looked like a gigantic eye. Sora shivered. Another, smaller eye appeared below and to the left of the first. Dimly she could make out a black body, but no details.

For a while the thing on the screen was immobile. She wished it would move; she couldn’t rid herself of the notion that the being was watching her intently, somehow seeing her through the monitor. At last it did move. The smaller eye vanished from view as the creature turned and hovered off the edge of the screen.

Her relief at its going didn’t last long. A laugh rang out, simultaneously low pitched and piercing. Sora had never heard anything so unpleasant. It didn’t sound human; rather it was like the sound some large animal might make when granted a sudden evil intelligence and comprehension.

“You’re not useless to _me_ … His time will come, but mine is already here.”

While not as disturbing as the laugh, the voice was enough to set the girl’s remaining calm nerves on edge.

“A dream!” said the voice. The laugh sounded again. “What a dream…”

Now Sora could see a new shape on the screen, almost as large as the thing with the yellow eyes. It grew larger, and she realized that it was drawing nearer to the screen. It was a vaguely humanoid shape, marred by narrow wings, a horned head, and oddly proportioned hands, chest, and shoulders. One of the massive hands was lifted, fingers spread wide, and there was a glassy thud as it collided with the other side of the screen. And the screen began to crack.

Sora strained with all the strength she could muster, first with one limb, then with each of the others in turn. But the metal bands held fast. The creature’s other hand balled into a fist and crashed knuckles-first into the screen – the window. Shards of glass fell and rattled as they bounced off the control panel. The room grew dimmer and colder.

“Go away!”

The bestial laugh, now louder, was her only answer. The thing smashed its hands into the screen repeatedly. On the fifth blow the entire surface of the glass shattered and collapsed inward. The monster stood in the space where the screen had been. Its arms reached forward and its huge bulk clambered out of the opening.

Sora could hardly see. Shadow seemed to be pouring into the room through the broken screen, and all she could make out was the misshapen figure looming above her.

“Are you cold?” The question, spoken as the monster stepped forward and bent over her, caught her by surprise. The shock of it, in fact, was what woke her.

In an instant everything was different. She was lying once more on her futon, under her blanket, free to move and no longer spread-eagle. She was warm, too. She _had_ been cold. Had she simply not noticed before, or had something happened when the question was asked? Sora had awakened because the instant the question was posed, in the last moment of the dream, she had felt the cold metal of the table against her bare body.

***

The night drew on, and the number of pedestrians waned. But no matter how late it got, the streets of Tokyo would never be entirely deserted. By now it was after midnight. Most of the railways were closed, and taxi fare had been hiked up at 10, so there were still a number of people walking to where they needed to be.

Thus, several individuals were close enough to hear the sound of a gunshot, and a couple of these saw the resulting explosion of a young man’s head. There was instant confusion, and cries of alarm arose as a series of red flashes heralded the shattering of a store’s glass front. No one had the presence of mind to determine where the shots had come from.

A row of buildings separated the scene of the murder, a pedestrians-only alley, from a higher traffic street. Several seconds after the obliteration of the storefront, the greater street was also strafed with gunfire. Several cars took damage, bullet holes appearing in their hoods, windshields, and roofs. One driver slumped sideways, the steering wheel twisting in his hands. There was a screech of brakes as another driver in the next lane was cut off by the dead man’s vehicle.

Again no one saw the shooter. Had anyone fixed their vision on the roofline of one of the buildings separating the two streets, they might have seen a flicker of black as the killer whipped about, his cloak billowing in the night wind, and began running at full speed across the roof. He did not pause at the roof’s edge, but leapt a full three meters and landed atop the next building. Baalmon’s speed didn’t slacken; he planned to cover a lot of ground before sunrise.

***

Takeru was standing in front of the wooden double doors, pushing against them with both hands until his arms were tired. No use. It wouldn’t open. He turned about, placed his back to the door, and took another look around. He recognized the mansion as Pinocchimon’s, but all the color seemed to have been sucked out of it, as if it were part of the lightless domain Piemon had ruled – or the Dark Ocean.

He tried to remember the layout. Had it only been four years? It seemed like a lifetime ago. Hall at the top of the stairs, another stairway beyond, toy room to the left, storage room in the back, additional halls on either side of the foyer… He couldn’t remember another exit. But he would look. Ground floor first.

Takeru walked through the door on his right. Here was where they had found the exploding fire truck. There were no toys lying around now, and the nearby window was intact again. He strained his ears for any sounds other than his own footfalls.

_Let’s play~ Let’s play~ Let’s…_ He expected to hear it at any time, followed by the clatter of the Dark Master’s footsteps. Pinocchimon might have the magnum again, or the submachine gun he had tossed to eight-year-old Takeru in the forest. _I think I’ll start with your legs first._

Everything was rushing back to him.

He walked through another door into a sitting room. There was still no sign of an exit. Takeru had little idea of what he would do if and when he got outside. Through the mansion’s windows all he could see was an ashen forest with no apparent ending. He stood at one of the windows for some time, gazing into the shadows under the branches and the silence between the rows of trunks. Maybe he was better off staying inside after all.

His thoughts were interrupted by a sound – the first he hadn’t caused since the dream began. It sounded like the creaking of a door, maybe the door connecting the foyer to the room with the repaired window. Had it creaked when he opened it? But that didn’t really matter. Something was coming. Takeru moved as quietly as he could through the next doorway. Beyond was another long hall without windows.

_Is this how it was last time?_ he wondered. Not necessarily, he decided. This was a dream after all. But it felt like so much more than that. He hurried down the hall and opened the first door he came to. Here was a storage room, unsettlingly filled at random with balls, cute toys, and deadly medieval weapons. He considered hefting a mace off the wall in case his pursuer caught up, but it looked very heavy, and he could already hear footsteps coming down the hallway he had just left.

There was yet another door opposite the one he had entered, and he passed through it to find himself back in the foyer, looking past the front door to the fire engine room’s entrance. This wasn’t right. Not pausing to wonder at the architectural impossibility, he began to make his way up the stairs. It wasn’t Pinocchimon chasing him; he could tell that by the sound of the footsteps. It might very well be something worse.

Once in the upstairs landing, Takeru pushed open the one door on the hall’s left side. At least this was the same. Here was the toy room where he had broken the television and ripped up the enchanted playmat.

No, there _was_ a difference. The other door was gone, replaced by smooth wall and wainscoting. He looked frantically about the room, knowing it was too late to retrace his steps. The stairs had already begun to creak under his tormenter’s weight. There was nowhere to hide, no furniture. But—

His eyes fell on a dark object in one of the shadowy corners of the room. Quickly he moved towards it, and saw that it was a handgun.

_This is a real gun!_ he heard a little boy say. _I’ll die if I play with this thing!_

And another voice, equally childish: _But of course! Dying for real is what makes the game fun!_

He fought the memories back and picked up the weapon. He didn’t know if it was loaded, but it felt heavy enough to be.

Takeru turned as the door to the toy room opened. He raised a trembling arm and aimed the gun’s barrel at the portal. It was too hard – he would have to use both hands.

Instead of the gray twilight he had become accustomed to, only blackness lay beyond the open door. He wouldn’t be able to take the suspense much longer. His finger prepared to pull the trigger…

“You won’t do it…” said a voice. The tone was almost conversational, but the boy sensed a menace behind it. Takeru hesitated. And a man stepped into the room, just a normal man, not close enough for his face to be made out. “Come on, Takaishi-san. Let’s play.”

The handgun fell out of Takeru’s limp grip and hit the floor. The instant it struck the wood there was a report like thunder, and Takeru was sitting up in his bed, listening to its echoes die away.


	29. Spreading Flames

_All this he promised, and through sunset's gate_  
_He swept me, past the lapping lakes of flame,_  
_And red-gold thrones of gods without a name_  
_Who shriek in fear at some impending fate._  
_Then a black gulf with sea-sounds in the night:_  
_"Here was your home," he mocked, "when you had sight!"_  
_– H. P. Lovecraft, “Homecoming”_

As the Dark Man had hours before, NeoDevimon stood upon a rooftop, overlooking the busy street beneath him. His tattered wings spread out behind him, and the summer wind whistled mournfully through the holes in their leathery expanse. For the last time, he flexed his jagged claws, which hung from pendulous arms that reached to the level of his ankles.

At last, he turned and stepped to the edge and threw himself into the darkness between buildings. Not far from the ground the wings opened again, defying the laws of aerodynamics by bringing him to a stop inches from the pavement. A ways down the narrow alleyway was a door leading into the building. It was locked, but that meant little to NeoDevimon.

 **“Guilty Claw.”** The metallic blades tore through the door and the deadbolt it concealed, and he stepped inside. There were no humans to be seen yet, but he knew that the building was full of them. Tokyo was overflowing with life, just waiting to end. This was as good a place to start as any.

***

Taichi seemed to awake to the sound of screams. They belonged to his mother. In a few moments he had managed to orient himself, and scrambled out of his bed’s lower bunk. As he approached the door he began to make out another, softer sound, like the slap of wet feet on the apartment’s floor.

Even as he opened his bedroom door, there came a third sound – the slamming shut of the apartment’s main entrance – leaving the screams fainter and the footsteps, if that’s what they were, inaudible. Taichi tore through the dinette and put all his weight against the front door. He expected it to fly open, but instead it was immobile under his shoulder. His hand detected something wrong, and his eyes turned downwards to confirm the impression. Yes, the door handle was gone.

Mind racing, he wondered where the rest of his family was. His father was probably at work, but Hikari? And what about Tailmon? Surely they’d be together, he thought, as he turned around and prepared to search the apartment for them. Dimly his mind registered that the view through the glass doors to the balcony had also changed, replacing Tokyo with a gray ocean stretching off to meet the horizon.

 _Dad must have drowned,_ Taichi thought numbly, but at the moment all his conscious focus was on his sister. In the adrenaline of the moment a sentence appeared in his mind and began to loop in an endless refrain. _I’d never forgive myself. I’d never forgive myself._

Then, with all the suddenness of a television being unmuted, he heard a new set of noises. He had already been heading towards Hikari’s bedroom, and this was where the sounds had their source.

**“Neko Punch!”**

Followed by a thick, smacking sound, a grunt from Tailmon, a heavy thud, and his sister calling her partner’s name in tones of panic. Now he had reached the door, which stood cracked open by several inches. His hand shot for the doorknob, but there was a crash, the building seemed to shake, and the door slammed closed, almost on his outstretched fingers. The knob was there, but it would not turn.

In desperation ( _I’d never_ ), Taichi threw the full weight of his body against the door ( _forgive myself_ ) twice, but it refused to give.

“Onii-chan! Tail – Tailmon –”

Taichi was largely beyond rational thought, but he had a vague idea that a battering ram was needed. He turned around and made for the dinette to grab a chair, but hadn’t taken more than a few steps before his foot caught on something soft and silent, and sent him sprawling. His hands broke the fall, sending waves of shock up his forearms. With a yell he rolled over, and saw that what he had fallen over was Meeko the cat, hit by a truck in 2001 and still not fully decayed two years later.

Taichi scrabbled once more to his feet, and laid hands on one of the chairs. As he did so, the dull gray light of the day outside the windows darkened. Taichi turned his head to look once more out to the balcony. A monstrous shape was barreling towards the apartment – he saw the bone helmet and ragged wings of an Airdramon, like the ones that had carried his brainwashed partner while under the Kaiser’s command, but dark and colorless like everything else outside.

There was an apocalyptic crash, the decimation of the balcony and the shattering of the doors. Taichi was thrown again to the floor. His head bounced off its surface, and he found himself staring hazily past the couch and into the champing jaws of the Airdramon, the dragon’s head thrust into the ruins of the apartment, obscuring the pseudo-daylight but not silencing the thunder of its still-beating wings.

Taichi’s head hurt. He couldn’t hear Hikari anymore. It was all he could do to shift his hands and prepare to push himself off the floor.

The Airdramon had stopped trying to force its way farther into the building. It ceased to snap its jaws and instead opened them wide. Deep in the blackness of its throat, there was a swirl of movement. The next instant black fire was pouring into the apartment. Taichi lost sight of his surroundings as they were swallowed up in the tenebrous flames. Now he was truly in pain. His flesh was being eaten away, and he knew that not because the dream told him so, but because he could feel it.

***

There were many sirens blaring in the streets of Tokyo that night, and many people awoke from unquiet dreams to a reality just as disturbing. Most of these sirens issued from police cars and ambulances, but in Tamachi the first to sound belonged to fire engines. There had been some form of massive electrical fire in an office building. It must be arson, since multiple fires had started on different floors within minutes of each other. Some people had already managed to make it out of the building alive, several inexplicably delirious employees telling their rescuers about the winged man with too-long arms.

***

At first, Ken was relieved to find himself awake. This night was turning out to be just as long as those preceding it, and he felt keenly the wrongness of wakefulness being more peaceful than sleep. Outside, he could hear the wail of sirens. That may have been what woke him. Turning his head, he noticed that his room was lit by a reddish glow, apparently coming through the glass door below his bunk.

“What is it, Ken-chan?” Wormmon asked. “What’s going on?”

Ken slowly fit the pieces together as the nightmares faded and reality took hold of him again.

“Is there a fire?” he wondered aloud. It would have to be quite a blaze to cast a glow like that, and to draw as many sirens as he could hear out in the street. “I’ll go see,” he said to his partner, and descended to the floor. Sure enough, one of the large buildings near his apartment complex was aflame. Fire danced in the windows of several floors. “This… this is bad. Wormmon!”

The larval Digimon hopped out of the bunk and into his partner’s open arms.

“We can help!” Ken exclaimed, and Wormmon jumped to the floor as the boy began to dress himself in normal clothes.

***

Within a few minutes, Stingmon was on the scene, hovering just above the burning building.

“What do we do, Ken-chan?”

It was a difficult question to answer. There was not one fire but a multitude, and any one of them might be threatening the lives of those inside. But they didn’t have time to hesitate.

“We’ll start over there,” Ken said, pointing to one of the top floors. He had an idea that they could clear out the building floor by floor. He hoped those being rescued wouldn’t be terrified of Stingmon. Everyone was familiar with the Digimon incidents of December 2002, but mistrust and confusion were still common almost a year later.

Stingmon, holding his human partner, began his descent towards the window indicated. Making sure he had a tight hold of Ken with one arm, he prepared to strike with the other. Spiking Finish would get them through one of the intact windows and into the building. But as Stingmon’s arm shot forward, a nearby window erupted on its own. A hand emerged, clutching a man in shirt and tie. His arms waved wildly before the hand’s grip relaxed, and he began to fall.

“Catch him!” Ken screamed, and Stingmon aborted his attack and plunged after the flailing figure. The air rushed against Ken’s face as they dropped. The boy looked up, trying to catch a glimpse of the hand’s owner. Subconsciously, he may simply not have wanted to be watching if the plummeting man hit the ground before Stingmon could catch hold of him.

A figure was emerging from the window, and in the light of the flames Ken could see clearly that it was not human. There was a sudden jolt as Stingmon’s free hand caught hold of the falling man, and for a sickening second Ken lost all thought of the thing in the window as he felt himself nearly slip through his partner’s clutch. Then the descent continued, more slowly. Ken wished vaguely that the man would stop screaming, and turned his gaze upwards again.

He caught a glimpse of flapping batwings, and saw the gaunt creature propel itself into the air and clear of the building it had set ablaze. Then it passed out of the range of the firelight, and vanished into the night.

 _They’re here,_ Ken thought coldly. Just like last year. But this was different, because they were battling on two fronts. They had not yet fixed the problems in the Digital World, and the war was already drawing closer to home.


	30. From the Depths

_“For there are strange objects in the great abyss, and the seeker of dreams must take care not to stir up or meet the wrong ones.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Strange High House in the Mist”_

The horizon was fog and shadow. But as far as his vision could reach, Kido Jou saw nothing but tombstones. They all seemed to be identical, and vaguely familiar. A word was written on each in English letters – EDONCANTOE – but it meant nothing to him. He had the feeling he had seen it somewhere before, but couldn’t attach any significance to it. It was unsettling, to have a cemetery full of identical nonsense epitaphs.

Jou stepped hesitantly forward. He wondered just how far the graveyard stretched. He had been here before once, hadn’t he? In the night, in fog…

Overdell. That was it. Overdell Cemetery, on File Island. Here, but for the intervention of Ikkakumon and Birdramon, he and Sora would have been a meal for Bakemon. There was no sign of the church, though. Only the gravestones and the occasional leafless tree. He continued walking forward. The graveyard hadn’t been this large the last time. He had walked double the distance of what should have been its diameter before there was any noticeable change in surroundings.

The change was so subtle that for several moments he couldn’t identify it. Then he noticed that the ubiquitous EDONCANTOE had been replaced by Japanese text. This was an odd discovery in a place where no one should actually be buried, and Jou crouched down to read what it said. What he saw was not reassuring.

_Tachikawa Mimi  
1989 – 2003  
Limited to one style for eternity._

With a growing weight in his stomach, Jou turned to another of the tombstones.

_Kido Shin  
1985 – 2003  
Hell can always use another doctor._

It had to be some form of sick joke. If they had died, he would have heard about it. What was he doing here, anyway? It was like a dream, but it couldn’t be. He could feel the cold damp of the fog clinging to his skin, and could run his fingers over the rough surface of the headstones.

He resumed his walk, moving a little faster now. The tombstones were still readable, but he didn’t stop to examine them. Jou was not a coward. He admitted to himself that he may have been, at one time, but his experience in 1999 had helped him become confident as well as cautious. On the other hand, this was a very strange situation, and he didn’t think anyone else in his position would have remained completely calm. He even considered breaking into a run, but the tombstones loomed so suddenly out of the fog that he worried he might run into one.

The monuments got gradually taller the farther he went, so that eventually he could read the epitaphs without bending down. He did his best to avoid looking at them, but the fog seemed to be drawing closer about him, and they would appear with grisly suddenness just in front of him.

_Hida Iori_  
1993 – 2003  
Murdered by curiosity. It honestly hurt. 

_Takenouchi Sora_  
1988 – 2003  
Went great with soy sauce. 

_Yagami Taichi  
1988 – 2003  
Born to lead: died first._

He was tired of walking by the time he finally came upon what he had expected to find for some time. It was clichéd, yes, but real life was full of clichés. Another tombstone stood in front of him, larger than the others, and more ornate. On its marble surface was written:

_Kido Jou  
1987 – 2003  
Welcome home!_

He tried to go around it, as he had the others, but was not really surprised to find that he couldn’t lift his feet off the ground. Looking down, he saw that the earth beneath him had begun to roil and liquefy. Already his shoes were sucked halfway into the muck. He pulled harder, but one foot rose only as the other sank. The tips of sharp blue rocks had risen to the surface, and he hoped there weren’t any more that might cut him as he sank.

Then he saw them move, and realized that they were not rocks but claws – a Bakemon’s claws; he could now see the fingers rising out of the ooze. He struggled harder, fighting a rising panic. _Makes you wish you were running from Pukamon again, doesn’t it?_ said a voice in his head – one that didn’t sound like his own. The thought died away suddenly as the entire dead hand rose out of the earth and fastened itself on his lower leg, hooking its claws through his pants and piercing his skin.

The shock of the pain caused Jou to lose his balance, and he fell to the side with a scream. From what medical knowledge he had, he knew that the leg would be mangled beyond repair. The entire graveyard seemed to have liquefied, though the tombstones were not sinking. His right arm was mired from the elbow down, and the rest of him was sinking quickly.

The zombified hand was still working at his leg, but what concerned him more now was his inevitable suffocation. The headstone – his headstone – had shrunk as he sank, and the epitaph was still plainly visible. All he could do was keep his left arm above the surface. Perhaps at the last minute someone would take his hand…

But they didn’t. Jou’s head sank into the airless dark, and his last contact with the world of light was the trailing of his hand along the engraved surface of the now horizontal grave marker, _Welcome Home!_

***

SkullSatamon was in Shibuya, and was quite obviously enjoying himself, chuckling mindlessly as he went about crushing photo booths, flipping cars with the hook on the end of the Claw Bone, and blasting the glass-fronted buildings. He had dropped out of the sky and laid waste to an entire street, scattering crowds of screaming Tokyoites in all directions. He was hoping the police or somebody would arrive soon; it had been a while since his last good battle.

But when they did appear, it wasn’t long before he lost interest. _If I want a real challenge,_ he thought, _I’m going to have to get the attention of those kids and their Digimon buddies._

***

Yamato had been wandering through the cave for what may have been hours. In places the cavern was a claustrophobic fissure in the rock of inner earth, while in others it was a spacious subterranean arena. Water dripped from black stalactites onto floors worn smooth over untold ages. This was the only sound to be heard other than Yamato’s own footfalls. But he was sure there was someone else here, waiting to be found.

There was no reason for his belief, but he didn’t question it. It was a dream, of course, and the logic of the dream told him that someone was waiting for him. All his focus was on finding this person, and he gave no thought to the strangeness of his situation and surroundings. He was just passing through a stalagmite gallery when he heard the voice. It was a distant, lonely sound, high-pitched and echoing through unknown cracks and tunnels and chambers before reaching him.

Yamato picked up the pace, trying not to slip on the damp rock floor. The sound could have been coming from any distance, and almost any direction, but he felt confident that he would stumble upon the caller eventually. Then at last the stony walls fell away on either side, and he was standing in the largest enclosed space he had ever seen. The cave stretched farther than his vision could reach to the right and left, and a chasm, almost a subterranean canyon, ran the length of it. He could just barely make out the opposite side in the shadows. It was here that the voice oriented itself, and he suddenly recognized it.

“Help! Onii-chan!”

Yamato rushed over to the edge of the chasm and looked down over the side. Takeru was several feet below, clutching protrusions of the rock wall in a white-knuckled death grip. He couldn’t have been more than eight years old, though for some reason Yamato did not find that strange. The little boy was dressed in green, as he had been when he first arrived on File Island. Even the traditional dome-like hat sat atop his head.

“Takeru!”

Yamato crouched at the side of the abyss. All his focus was on his brother, but he knew that the canyon walls faded into shadow farther down, and that there was no bottom visible, just gray distance. He stretched out an arm.

“Takeru, grab my hand.”

The boy looked upwards and saw him. Yamato felt a small chill run through him – something wasn’t right with his little brother. Then Takeru smiled in relief, and the impression passed.

“Onii-chan!” Then his face fell. “What if I can’t hold on?”

“Just grab hold. I’ll make sure you don’t fall.”

Takeru lowered his face, as if gathering courage, then glanced up again and released the wall with one hand, shooting it upward and catching hold of Yamato’s own. There was a moment of terror when Yamato thought, _He’s too far down! I won’t be able to reach!_ But then everything was fine. Yamato did still think that he had misjudged the distance somewhat. He needed to fully extend his arm in order to reach. Earlier it had seemed that Takeru was just below the canyon’s rim.

“Can you pull me up?” Takeru asked. His small, regular teeth gritted in the stress of the situation.

“I’ll try.” And he did, heaving upward with all the strength he could gather. Takeru rose several inches higher, but Yamato soon realized that one arm would not be enough to lift his brother back over the cliff edge. “Wait…” He paused to rest, looking down again at his brother. Takeru’s teeth were still visible, but – was he smiling? The boy wore an expression Yamato couldn’t remember seeing before.

“Are you… alright, Takeru?”

Takeru nodded emphatically.

“I’m just great.”

Was the voice a little different now? It sounded more like – like the older Takeru. The older Takeru? Yes…Takeru wasn’t eight anymore. He hadn’t been for some time. Yamato felt a rising unease.

“What happened to you, Takeru?” he asked. “You –”

“You’re acting funny, Onii-chan! Aren’t you glad to see me?” Not anymore. Yamato blinked. Takeru’s eyes were supposed to be bright blue, like a perfect sky. But now his eyes were dark, almost black, though at the same time they seemed to shine softly in the cave’s darkness. The young boy hadn’t moved, but there was a pull now on Yamato’s arm. Takeru was getting heavier.

“You’re funny, Onii-chan! Welcome to my new house! Mommy missed you, but I helped her forget.”

Yamato was certain now. Whatever he was holding, it wasn’t his brother. As subtly as he could, he tried to disengage himself. But Takeru’s other hand left the wall, and clasped Yamato’s wrist. The boy’s entire weight hung from Yamato’s one arm. Yamato’s feet slid closer to the brink, and his free hand gripped an outcropping, but he wasn’t sure how long he could maintain his hold.

“Come on, Onii-chan! I want to show you my room!”

“Takeru – please –”

The boy-thing let go with one hand and stretched it out to indicate the gulf. His grin was stretched wide across a face that had nothing in common with Takeru’s at any age. The voice was a man’s voice, a _dark_ voice.

“I’m down there! I’m down there! Come meet the rest of me!”

So heavy, too heavy, and getting heavier. The body was elongating. Now it was the size of Takeru’s at his current age. Yamato’s hand was bleeding where the stone outcropping ground against the skin of his palm. Then the pain ended. The rock slipped from his sweaty grasp and Yamato was pulled irresistibly over the cliff. He was rushing through the dark in the grip of some growing, melting thing, and soon there was only black, the whistle of displaced air, and laughter.


	31. Disturbances

_“There had been a slight earthquake tremor the night before, the most considerable felt in New England for some years; and Wilcox's imagination had been keenly affected.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Call of Cthulhu”_

With a sort of half reluctance, Yuki opened her eyes, glanced at the clock on the bedside table, and groaned. The past few nights had not been restful ones, and it seemed as though tonight would be no different. It was about three in the morning. In several more hours she would have to be up and in front of her students. They were nice enough kids, sure, but tiring to deal with – and the last thing she needed was more tiring.

The memory of the last dream faded entirely in the few moments she spent contemplating the coming day. Something about a war, and a tall tower… Well, it was gone, anyway. She suspected it was these weird dreams that were causing her insomnia, but she didn’t know what had caused them. She had never been a very active dreamer before, or a very imaginative person in any respect. They seemed like bad dreams – “seemed” because she could never remember much about them when she awoke, just a sense of oppression and worry.

Yuki started to drift off again before half an hour had passed. But something kept her from falling asleep entirely. There was a faint tapping sound somewhere, as if someone were knocking gently on a window. Wearily, she wondered if it was just her imagination. Whatever it was, it stopped after a while.

She was fading… fading… maybe into another dream, but at least there was some sleep in it for her. Just give me a few more minutes, Mom.

A voice spoke. It was a friendly, non-threatening voice, with only a little rasp to mar its pleasantness.

“I’m so sorry to bother you, miss. But I have a proposition for you, and the door was unlocked.”

Yuki opened her eyes, unsure if she had really heard anything. Strange men don’t simply walk into your apartment at night, at least not with an apology and a “proposition.”

“I was just passing by,” the voice continued, “and thought I detected a soul in need of some assistance.”

Yuki couldn’t see much, since it was late and her curtains were drawn. She could, however, make out an odd silhouette. Could the guy be cosplaying? The outline of his clothes was strange, especially with the huge, flaring collar, like something you’d expect to see in medieval Europe. Maybe this _was_ just a dream.

“I won’t take up much of your time,” the man said. “I know you’re so very, very tired.”

Very tired.

“In fact, that’s why I’m here. You see, no one knows a surer way to secure good rest than I do. It can be yours immediately, by way of special bargain.”

It sounded tempting, it really did, but even through the tiredness of her body and the growing fog in her brain, Yuki remained skeptical. It didn’t seem to her like the guy was lying; in that somnolent moment his suggestion seemed perfectly realistic and logical. But what did he expect in return? As if she had spoken aloud, he answered her question.

“I just want one little tiny thing. Insignificant, really. You’ll never know that it’s gone. I guarantee it! If I could just see your wrist for a moment we can make the exchange without any more delay…”

Of course. That was all. Just something small and useless for instant relief. Slowly her arm slid out from under her sheets.

“Oh, don’t go to any trouble, miss! I’ll take care of everything.” He bent forward, and gently took hold of her forearm with his gloved left hand. His other hand hovered a moment over the exposed wrist, then descended and used a finger to scrawl something across her arm, leaving a thin trail of blood behind. Yuki felt nothing. Her eyes were closed, and with each passing moment the world was fading farther into the distance. _Was it always this dark?_ she wondered, and then had faded away entirely.

Her visitor stood at her bedside for a few more seconds. With both hands he clasped the woman’s arm, and ghostly purple light swirled in phantom coils up his arms and soaked into his body. When the light faded, he left the apartment the way he had entered, stepping out of the door to the balcony, and floating over the railing into the windy dark.

***

For the first time in four nights, Hikari did not dream of the dark-voiced man, nor did she see the rotting town on the beach. She was as alone as ever, and did not recognize her surroundings as any place she had ever been, dreamed, or heard of. Black stone rose all around her in the shape of spires and walls and crazily-angled battlements. The tops of many structures were entirely invisible in the gray, cloudy, sunless sky of the Dark World.

As at the ancient sea town, the air was heavy with the reek of dead sea creatures, though Hikari saw no corpse in the empty streets. Maybe she had misidentified it? There was an odd quality to it – an underlying, barely detectable, alien scent hidden under the more mundane stench.

The whole place was… offensive. Offensive to smell, sight, and feel. Staring too long at the architecture made her dizzy. She couldn’t always tell if a particular angle of stone was convex or concave. It felt as though the scene might shift into something else at any moment – if she turned away from them the structures might spin or elongate or silently collapse in on themselves. Everything was covered in moisture, too. There were droplets on the walls, and water like slime squelched beneath her bare feet as she walked.

KUTOURUU

A sound suddenly thundered into her mind, something that seemed to bypass her ears entirely. It was so shocking that she let out a gasp, but couldn’t hear it over the mental explosion. The sound was a word – it had syllables – but it was meaningless, and that made it all the more terrifying. It was followed swiftly by another half-sound, this one different, still unrecognized, just as horrible.

Hikari clapped her hands to her ears and continued forward, not knowing how she expected to escape. For a minute there was silence. Then the sound-impacts were repeated. This kept up as the girl moved blindly forward. She could hear them, and recognize them, but not make sense of them. KUTOURUU. FUTAGUN. Over and over. Any moment she expected her brain to explode as one of those gigantic sounds shot through it.

She took another step – and there was nothing beneath her toes. What had looked like a flat plaza was a chasm, a drop into empty space bounded by dark stone. _KUTOURUU._ Her heel slipped from under her. _FUTAGUN._ Her arms flew up as her other foot lost traction, treacherously sliding on the nameless liquid that coated every surface. She was falling, but that wasn’t half as bad as the sounds. _KUTOURUU! FUTAGUN!_ They would shake her to pieces!

“Hikari, wake up!”

Tailmon’s voice brought the girl back into the waking world, but the shaking continued unabated. An earthquake was in progress. The apartment building seemed to sway, the confusion of the dream carrying over into conscious reality. Her heart racing, Hikari kept an arm around Tailmon for several minutes until the tremor ended.

_It doesn’t mean anything,_ she told herself. The Digital World’s recent strange seismic activity had come instantly to her mind. _Earthquakes happen all the time in our world. So do dreams._ But this was different, and she knew it. There was meaning here. She and her friends would have to find it, before the two worlds were torn asunder.

***

Hiraga Ayaki also felt the quake. It was a fairly weak one – couldn’t be over shindo four – but he was a light sleeper, and the tremor cut right through his dreamless sleep. He really shouldn’t have been sleeping on the job in the first place, but he hadn’t gotten much rest recently, nightmares or no.

“Don’t worry about it, Hiraga-san,” said a cordial voice. “You’re only human.”

Hiraga turned about quickly in his chair and saw the speaker, Sato’s “Dark Man,” standing in the room’s entranceway.

“Good vibrations!” the man quipped, saying the phrase in English with an American accent as flawless as his Japanese one. Hiraga hadn’t seen much of the Dark Man, but every time they met his mind always returned to that first question, _Where is he from? He’s not Middle Eastern, or Western, or Japanese. I wouldn’t be surprised to see him painted on the wall of a pharaoh’s tomb._ “A very successful night,” the Dark Man continued in Japanese. “Wouldn’t you agree? Calls to emergency services keep pouring in.”

“I apologize… I’m sorry – I don’t think I ever heard your name?”

“You didn’t,” replied the other cheerfully. “And there’s no need to apologize. Less than an hour ago I was sleeping myself, having a most amusing dream.”

Hiraga nodded, then asked, “Will the Digimon be returning at dawn?”

“You mean you forgot to tell them?” the Dark Man asked in mock horror. He laughed as Hiraga’s expression changed. “Don’t apologize for that, either. They’ll be back as soon as they run out of energy. After they get going they’ll be hard to stop until they’ve had their fill.”

Hiraga said nothing, just nodded again, dumbly.

“Keep up the good work,” the Dark Man said with a trace of irony, then turned and walked out of the room.

Hiraga faced the monitor again. He knew he was lucky to have escaped without reprimand, but the brief encounter stuck with him for a long time, as every meeting with the Dark Man did. The room seemed to be somewhat colder for a few minutes afterwards, but that was probably just his imagination.

***

In several more hours, the sun had risen, bringing welcome light to a weary city. The authorities had had a busy night, and once the civilians had risen and heard the news – more murders and arsons throughout the dark hours than Tokyo had ever seen in one twenty-four-hour period – a wave of unease and fear swept through each and every one of them.

And there were even stranger things – people who had rotted away in minutes without apparent cause, and, as the day drew on, discoveries of brain-dead people lost in inexplicable comas. There had been electrocutions and shootings and stabbings, and accounts continued to pour in of monstrous beings seen by terrified witnesses. The monsters of the previous year were brought up often, those things called Digimon that had nearly brought the world to utter destruction.

As might be expected, those who felt the new fear most strongly were the Chosen Children. One by one they awakened from disturbing night visions to find that the horrors they had been facing over the past few days had finally manifested themselves in the human world. If any of them doubted it, their worst suspicions were soon confirmed by Ken and Wormmon, who had seen a winged, demonic thing fly from a burning building, and just barely managed to save a man’s life.

All eleven of them rushed through their morning preparations and prepared to meet and discuss the situation. A call was put through to Mimi in the United States, and she promised to return to Japan as soon as she could manage. Jou, Yamato, Taichi, and Sora shook off their nightmares with difficulty, and the Chosen Children converged on Izumi Koshiro’s apartment.


	32. Codes

_“They walk unseen and foul in lonely places where the Words have been spoken and the Rites howled through at their Seasons. The wind gibbers with Their voices, and the earth mutters with Their consciousness. They bend the forest and crush the city, yet may not forest or city behold the hand that smites.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Dunwich Horror”_

Koshiro was busy before any of the others had even arrived.

_Koshiro: We need some plan of action, Gennai-san. The dreams seem more real now, and if the Dark Towers keep appearing…_

_Gennai: Yes, that’s why I contacted you. There may be a way to locate whoever it is that is bringing the Dark Towers into the Digital World, but I’m going to need your help to implement it._

A brief smile, tired but genuine, crossed Koshiro’s face as he started typing back. That was how the Digimon Kaiser’s reign had been ended. The source of the Dark Towers had to be found. There was an eerie parallel between recent events and those first five months of battle in 2002. Koshiro, then and now, had watched as the grid that represented the Digital World was swathed in black. Battles had taken place, and squares had been liberated, but it was like fighting a cancer or a hydra; there were always more being consumed. The war of attrition had come to an end only when the enemy stronghold had been found and destroyed.

_Koshiro: We’ll do whatever we can, but now that the enemy is in our world all of us will be kept busy._

_Gennai: Your help is all I need for the project. The younger Chosen Children can continue the work they’ve been doing until we’re done. I’ll assemble Tentomon and the others in one place, so when Daisuke’s team gets here they can transport them to the human world._

_Koshiro: Will they be able to evolve here? We don’t know how powerful the enemy Digimon are in this world._

_Gennai: One of the Holy Beasts will be able to supply the power to reach the Perfect level. Thanks to everyone’s efforts they have managed to recover greatly from their imprisonment and the destruction of the Holy Stones._

That was good news, at least. The older Chosen had been wanting to help out since this all started, but were unable to assist much without D-3s of their own to open the Digital Gate.

He typed back:

_Koshiro: What is your plan, Gennai-san?_

_Gennai: I have been working on a program to pinpoint the source of the distortion that allows the Dark Towers to appear in the Digital World. It is almost finished, but I think that the two of us working together will be able to have it up and running faster._

_Koshiro: I see. Please send me what you have._

Then, as an afterthought,

_Koshiro: The others will be here soon to discuss the situation._

_Gennai: I’m sending you the code now. Tell the others what we’ve just discussed. If all goes well, we’ll be able to end this within a few days._

After the program had been sent and farewells exchanged, Koshiro began looking over the code. It was a complicated construction, but he didn’t think that it would be too hard a problem for the two of them to solve. After a few minutes he leaned back in his chair and stretched.

The promise of positive action had removed a weight from his mind. Burying himself in work would help to erase or at least submerge the lingering images of the previous night’s dreams, visions of dim abominations capering through a trackless labyrinth…

He got to work as soon as he could, but it wasn’t long before he heard the apartment’s doorbell ring, followed by the sound of footsteps in the hall.

 

***

Tachikawa Mimi – Mimi Tachikawa to her neighbors – received the call from Japan late in the evening. She had been preparing for bed when her friends across the Pacific, having just greeted a new and imposing day, contacted her with news of the assault on Tokyo. Sora had been the caller. Because of the cost of long distance communication, the conversation was kept brief, but Mimi had gotten enough details to nearly turn her stomach.

It was not only the events Sora related that did it. The previous night’s dreams leapt unbidden into her mind while she listened. She had been back at Digitamamon’s dilapidated restaurant on Spiral Mountain. MetalEtemon was there, as were her fellow Chosen Children, but their partner Digimon were nowhere near, nor could her screams summon them. None of her friends moved. It was as if they were paralyzed at the sight of death’s approach in the form of this chrome ape-thing.

Powerful metallic fingers fastened themselves on soft flesh, rending and pulling. Blood described grisly arcs in the air, Jou’s arms were ripped from their sockets, Koshiro’s head torn from his shoulders. A metal fist crashed into Yamato’s face, and the boy fell to the ground with a puddle of red where his features had been. At last there was only Mimi, stumbling backwards until tripping over a large shard of stone.

The monster’s feet clanked to a stop just before her. She raised her arms, but couldn’t block out the sight of Etemon’s psychotic grimace as his hands reached out for the last time to choke off her cries.

The horrible vision had faded as the day drew on, but Sora’s call brought it all back in crystalline clarity. Now they were dealing with more than just dreams, and no one knew what terrifying scenes might soon play out in unforgiving reality.

Only a week or so before she had been in Tokyo for the anniversary of their entrance into the Digital World, before she or any of them had any idea that they would be called into battle once again. At the moment she wasn’t sure if she could get her parents to agree to another trip, but she promised Sora and the others that she would be back as soon as she could manage. They would need her and Palmon. She would have to do her part regardless of the strain on her father’s checkbook.

“Again?” asked Tachikawa Keisuke, blinking behind his tinted glasses.

“Why now?” was Satoe’s question – then, as a possible answer came to her: “Is it something dangerous? Those monsters again?” Her voice rose quickly. She showed every sign of bursting into her usual hysterics.

Mimi sighed. Her parents loved her almost to death, as her American acquaintances might have said. They had never gotten entirely comfortable with her dealings with Digimon, even if they could accept Palmon. Back in March, when Diablomon reappeared, she had gotten their permission to fly to Japan only by frequent assurances that she probably wouldn’t be doing any actual fighting, which had turned out to be perfectly true. She couldn’t make the same promise again in good faith.

But she mentally swore to herself, her friends, and her partner, to get there somehow. All she had to do was balance her father and mother’s protectiveness against their other parental trait – the inability to deny her something she truly wanted. And she more than just wanted this.

 

***

The torches burned steadily in Wisemon’s study, without ever needing to be relit or replaced. The reason for this was a mystery, but a very minor one, and Wisemon himself never even paused to wonder about it. If he thirsted for mysteries, he need only pluck another volume off one of the shelves. They were like his Book, in a way, all of them about secret things. They explained many of the things that his own Book had mentioned, and through cross-referencing many things had become much clearer.

The various languages came easier and easier to him. He never tired of learning the Rites, tracing the Symbols, memorizing the Words of power and what they meant. His Book, the one he had followed through the desert to the Dark One, continued to lengthen as he and his unseen co-authors added to it line by line and chapter by chapter. Its bulk remained constant these days, and it never moved anymore, though it would tremble slightly whenever the Dark One came to check in on Wisemon’s progress.

One of these visits had occurred just the previous evening. The Dark One had known which of the tomes Wisemon had already read through, and quizzed him for some time on their contents. The Dark One had seemed very pleased. Wisemon had drawn his patron’s attention to the Book, which lay at the center of the petrified table. The Dark One had grinned and rested a hand lovingly on its open pages.

“I know this book well, too,” he said. “I’ve seen it many times before, though never in this language. It is a good book – an engaging book. You know I’m mentioned in it? Me and some associates of mine. Take care of this book, Wisemon. It’s a powerful thing, and I can’t properly express how glad I am that I found you with it.”

For his part, Wisemon was also grateful to fate for putting the Dark One in his way. The Book had always been a part of him, perhaps the most important part of him, but only now was he learning what it meant. He was learning what it could be used for as well, but any practical application was secondary to absorbing the information, to delving deep into the secret forces that lurked behind the world’s mask.

Sometime in the night, after the conversation, he was reading one of the books and had come across the Dark One’s name – his real name – and paused for a moment to shiver with rapturous understanding.


	33. Towards Collision

_“Of its origin, apart from the erratic and unbelievable tales extorted from the captured members, absolutely nothing was to be discovered; hence the anxiety of the police for any antiquarian lore which might help them to place the frightful symbol, and through it track down the cult to its fountain-head.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Call of Cthulhu”_

Daisuke emerged from his apartment building just as Taichi, Hikari, and Yamato were about to head towards the Izumi residence without him.

“Finally,” Taichi said, already feeling irritable.

“Sorry. Jun and Caprimon wouldn’t get out of the bathroom—”

“Well, never mind,” Yamato interrupted. “We should get going.”

They had not been walking long when Daisuke spoke up again.

“You know, I think I may have dreamed last night.”

The other three stopped walking and turned to look at him. Daisuke couldn’t quite decipher their expressions, largely because they weren’t sure of how to react.

Daisuke swallowed. He had thought that maybe they had been short with him because he was the only one of them who hadn’t been having the dreams. His dream, if that was really what it was, had been brief and vague, but it had been unpleasant, and he hoped it might count as a nightmare. As he had told Chicomon the night before, he felt guilty, like he wasn’t sharing the same burden as the others because they had to deal with the dreams and he didn’t.

After a brief silence, Taichi responded.

“What was it like?”

Daisuke fumbled for words to describe it, feeling suddenly embarrassed.

“Well, I didn’t really see anything, but – there was a big crack, like something broke open, and it was cold and – and wrong…” He trailed off under the weight of their stares.

“I wonder what it means,” Hikari murmured eventually.

“Well… It probably wasn’t anything,” Daisuke said sheepishly. Then, with more alacrity, “Let’s hurry up and get to Koshiro-san’s place.”

They started off again, each with his or her own thoughts. There was no further conversation until they arrived at their destination, though there may have been if Iori had been present to hear Daisuke’s nocturnal impressions.

***

Koshiro’s bedroom quickly became crowded as his friends arrived. First there was Jou, who shared the building with him. Takeru, Miyako and Iori took longer to appear, and shortly after their coming the Yagami siblings showed up with Daisuke and Yamato in tow. After them was Sora, who lived in the same vicinity but had been delayed by placing the call to Mimi. Then there was only Ken to wait for.

Jou’s demeanor was subdued. He and Koshiro talked little during their wait for the others. There were long pauses in conversation, during which Jou would usually look down and seem to contemplate his left leg. Nothing of any importance was said, and the elder boy didn’t mention what he had found upon awakening – the thin, red scratch just barely visible where his dream’s Bakemon had seized him. He couldn’t swear that it hadn’t been there the previous day, and even if it hadn’t been, he knew the mind had a powerful control over the body. He had heard once of test subjects who were blindfolded and told they would be branded. Ice cubes had been applied to them instead, but the skin still burned.

The new arrivals hardly brightened the mood. With so many people in the room, the temperature began to rise, but no one noticed with the chill of the worry numbing them. While the ten of them waited for Ken, Koshiro scanned the faces arrayed before him. How often had they gathered like this in the past two years? Sometimes the faces would be thoughtful at those times. Sometimes there would be signs of righteous anger or determination. Sometimes there were even smiles. But this time was different. They didn’t look resolved. They looked haunted.

There still wasn’t much talking. For the most part they exchanged the horror stories that each had heard of on the television or radio concerning the previous night’s attacks. A few mentioned their dreams, but did not go into detail. When the topic was first broached Sora crossed her arms and ran her hands along them as if chilled, and Taichi and Yamato cast odd glances at their respective siblings.

At last Ken made his appearance, and Koshiro finally launched into what Gennai had told him.

“That would be great!” was Daisuke’s reaction to the plan. “It’ll be just like last time.”

The others liked the idea as well. The ghost of a smile played around Taichi’s face, and Miyako’s expression brightened perceptibly. The Digimon, who were feeling fine except for their concern for their partners, also smiled at the thought of taking the fight directly to the enemy. Only Takeru did not react in quite the same way as his companions. He looked down at his right hand, thoughtfully curling it into a fist as he remembered the previous night’s dream.

“From what I’ve seen of Gennai’s code it should be doable,” Koshiro continued. “Even if we can just narrow it down to a smaller area it would help immensely.”

Daisuke and his team were given their instructions on where they would find the partner Digimon, who could be sent to the human world just as they had been for Christmas last year. Once all the details were settled, Miyako held up her D-3.

“Digital Gate! Open!”

***

Hiraga contacted Sato as the morning drew on. The mercenary was surprised not to have heard from his employer, considering the excitement of the night.

His reason for calling was twofold. First, he wanted to make sure that everything was still running smoothly; the lack of communication grated on him as something irregular. Secondly, he had finally decided to voice a few of his misgivings.

“My colleague tells me things went well,” Sato said without preamble. “I’ve been busy making preparations for the day or I would have consulted you earlier. I assume everything is progressing smoothly on your end?”

“Everything is… fine, I guess. Though I was wondering exactly how you expect me to keep those monsters under control.”

“Is that a genuine concern?” Sato asked, his eyes narrowing.

Hiraga hesitated for a moment before replying.

“Some of them… brought back souvenirs,” he said.

“What do you mean?”

Hiraga sighed.

“Living souvenirs.”

Hiraga was not a squeamish man by any stretch of the imagination. He had done many jobs over the course of his career that would disrupt the sleep of a more sensitive person, but there had always been a point to his actions, something to be gained by whoever was currently paying him.

These Digimon, on the other hand, had taken prisoners merely for their own entertainment. For the most part, all the members of Sato’s organization stationed within the building were as cold and callous as Hiraga, but none of them had any objection to Hiraga’s proposal to move the demons’ quarters into an unused section of the basement farther removed from the computer lab.

“You may be able to hear them through the connection,” he said as an afterthought. It had been quiet for several minutes now, but Hiraga wasn’t sure the Digimon had tired of their diversions. Intermittently throughout the past few hours an exceptionally loud scream would reach through the walls. Everyone was understandably on edge.

“Have you tried asking them to put an end to it?” Sato asked. When Hiraga turned his head aside and looked down at the floor, Sato continued. “If you’re going to be any use to me, Hiraga-san, you need to be comfortable working with the Digimon. I’ve given you full authority in your world, and I can’t have you afraid to exercise it.”

Hiraga looked up again, abruptly.

“How _am_ I useful to you, Sato-san? This has been a well-paying job for me, but I don’t seem to be doing anything. I’m afraid of wasting your time and money doing something that any of your other employees could do just as well if not better.”

He realized that his admission might lead to the end of a very comfortable situation, but his general paranoia and the stress of the morning had put him in a mood to complain. Sato was looking at him searchingly. Again Hiraga felt the urge to avert his gaze, but didn’t act on it. Yes, the man on the screen had access to strange regions. He was apparently wealthy, part of a worldwide network no one dreamed existed. The mystique of the unknown and the alien hung about him, as though he had been to a place which no one but he had returned from. But he was still just a human, and Hiraga refused to be awed by anyone of his own species.

“As far as I’m concerned,” Sato said at last, “every being has its purpose. When I hired you I was still in the early stages of my operation. You were useful then. Maybe, as you pointed out, you aren’t as useful now. But I never let go of a living resource. You live on the fringe of human society, and serve as a bridge between the human world and us, the Outsiders. Sometime soon I may be able to find a job for you more worthy of your particular talents, but for the moment, you will just wait, and you will get paid.”

Hiraga did not reply. He couldn’t tell if Sato was unusually perceptive or if the parallels between their thoughts were just coincidences.

“It would be best if you didn’t let the Digimon get bored,” Sato said, changing the subject. “If you don’t want them making a mess at headquarters you should send them out to do something productive.”

“Maybe you have a suggestion?” returned Hiraga.

Sato leaned back in his chair and was silent for almost a minute. Eventually he seemed to reach some sort of decision and nodded, then answered.

“Send them after the Chosen Children. There should be five in the city today. We’ll need to take them alive eventually, and it may as well be now.”

“I know their addresses,” Hiraga said. “I could easily secure them myself.”

Sato smirked at the suggestion.

“I sincerely doubt it,” he replied. “By now they will know that there are hostile Digimon in the human world. If they haven’t brought their own Digimon over yet, they will very soon. Set Lilithmon’s group on them instead.”

“All right,” Hiraga said evenly, hiding his irritation. “I’ll let them know.” Before he could turn to go, Sato spoke up again.

“While they are doing that, I want you checking all incoming flights to Tokyo for a passenger named Tachikawa Mimi. I’ll send you her profile. Have someone stationed at the airport to intercept her if and when she arrives.”


	34. Assault on Odaiba

_“All this, of course, assuming that the non-terrestrial linkages and the anomalies ascribed to the invading foes are not pure mythology.” – H. P. Lovecraft,_ At the Mountains of Madness

The reunion between partners happened just as it usually did. The Digimon were overjoyed to see their human companions, and significantly brightened the Chosen Children’s moods with their enthusiastic greetings. The warm feelings still hadn’t worn off as Jou walked about Aqua City, carrying Gomamon in his arms. Every once in a while the furry Digimon would move his head to look around, but for the most part stayed still, since Jou had asked him not to draw much attention to himself.

It was an unusual problem, how to acclimate the world to Digimon. After all the destruction humanity had witnessed in the previous few years, it was understandable that the beings from another world still weren’t entirely trusted. All through this year the Chosen had been taking their partners out among the attractions of the city, but no one seemed to take notice. Whether they actually did notice or not was another question.

It had been decided at Koshiro’s apartment that the five Chosen Children remaining in Tokyo would patrol the city as best they could in case the enemy made a move in the daytime. After all the debauchery of the previous night, the Chosen thought it more likely that the invaders wouldn’t stir again until sundown, but no one had come close to suggesting that the teens and their partners take the day off.

Koshiro, while working on the code which Gennai had sent him, was going to be simultaneously monitoring police activity, so that he could inform the others via D-Terminal if the enemy struck again.

Until that happened, Jou really didn’t see much point in patrolling, but his sense of duty led him to stick close to the water, where Gomamon and his evolutions could be of most use.

“We were here on Christmas Eve last year, remember?” Jou asked.

“Yep,” Gomamon said. “Good thing there’s no Dark Tower this time, huh?”

He didn’t know then just how good it was.

***

NeoDevimon had been the first of Lilithmon’s party out of the group’s headquarters after the order to capture the Chosen Children came, leaving the humans to dispose of his recently deceased plaything. He had set out for Odaiba immediately. Then, not wishing to waste his time searching for his targets, he decided to draw them to him.

**“Deep Sorrow.”**

The tattered wings beat against the air, which chilled as they passed through it, and darkened with each stroke. By the time he announced the attack he had already been spotted by the people below. In the daylight, his pale body and pumping wings, the color of dried blood, stood out in sharp relief against the blue summer sky.

Out of that sky rushed his dank wind, and gawking pedestrians struggled to stand against the force of the blast. An elderly man began to clutch his head, and crumpled to the ground. This first apparent victim was soon followed by younger men and women, some of whom were knocked off their feet while others collapsed and rolled about on the pavement, moaning as their darker emotions awoke and began to run riot.

NeoDevimon spread his wings wide one more time, held them in place, then thrust them forward with all the force he could muster. Store windows shattered in the onslaught, and the nearer human beings skidded along the ground as the wind caught them like so much litter.

***

Far along down the street, Jou broke into a run. _I never would have thought they would attack again this soon!_ he thought, not shouting aloud to Gomamon in order to conserve his breath. They had almost come to the nearest of those affected by the enemy’s attack when Gomamon himself spoke.

“Let go, Jou! I’ll evolve!”

Panting, Jou obeyed, reaching for his Digivice just as his partner touched down on the sidewalk.

**“Gomamon, Evolve! … Ikkakumon!”**

NeoDevimon saw the light and the influx of data immediately, but did not move forward, only waited to see who his opponent would be. In a few moments, Ikkakumon stood below, his volcanic blue eyes staring up at the demonic Digimon. There was no need for either of them to speak, so Ikkakumon launched directly into battle.

**“Harpoon Vulcan!”**

His single horn detached itself and sped toward the enemy, but NeoDevimon only turned aside and let it fly past. Only then did he fling himself ahead and down toward the opponent. In the air behind him, the homing missile Ikkakumon had launched released its horn-shaped casing and arced around to follow its target.

NeoDevimon froze just in front of Ikkakumon’s broad face, lifting one bladed hand as if to slice into it. Ikkakumon lowered his head, preparing to parry the attack with his horn, but in that instant NeoDevimon shot upwards again, and Ikkakumon’s missile slammed into the pavement.

Jou’s partner tried blinking the dust from his eyes. He heard Jou yell something behind him. Then he felt jagged blades sink into his flank, and roared in pain as his massive body left the ground. There were a few moments of agony as the claws propelled him upwards, ending in a bolt of more potent pain as their hooked ends tore loose and he flew through the air. There was a shock and a crash as he hit the waters of Tokyo Bay, and sank some distance before recovering and paddling up to the surface.

In the meantime, Jou was running again, charging toward the water’s edge with his Digivice clutched in his hand. He knew that they would have to evolve. No Adult-level Digimon would have been able to lift and throw Ikkakumon.

NeoDevimon ignored the human, but flew in the same direction. The Chosen Child was only to be captured. NeoDevimon was in a mood to kill.

Jou came to where the land ended and looked out across the bay. He could see Daiba Park some distance away, and the mainland beyond it, but his focus was on the approximate place he had seen his partner strike the water.

“Ikkakumon!” For one gut-wrenching moment Jou thought that it might not work, that the Holy Beasts had failed them and evolution to Perfect was impossible. But the Digivice was glowing as he called out the name.

**“Ikkakumon, Super Evolve! … Zudomon!”**

The massive shelled Digimon stood half submerged in water, and was starting to wade back to shore when NeoDevimon dropped out of the sky and hung suspended just over the other water as Zudomon’s ripples swept by under him. Zudomon raised his hammer in challenge, but did not have a chance to swing it, because NeoDevimon stretched out an overlong arm and submerged the tips of his metal claws in the water of the bay.

**“Stun Claw.”**

Zudomon stopped suddenly in place. Lightning played about Thor’s Hammer, but not in the way that presaged Hammer Spark. The water for a vast area around was glowing, sparks leaping from its surface. Jagged bolts of energy lashed their way up Zudomon’s body, and held him immobilized.

NeoDevimon turned his head towards Jou, and addressed him.

“It will be easiest if you stay there until I am done,” the demon said in a frozen monotone. “I’m in no mood to hunt you through the city. You will be leaving with me, once I’m finished here. I’ve been wanting to try this experiment on a Perfect-level Digimon for some time.” And so saying, he extended his other arm, and dipped its claws into the luminous water as well.

***

Yamato had not yet begun his patrol. He and Gabumon had meant to start immediately, but at the last moment he had remembered some housekeeping that should probably be done before his father got off work. There was nothing happening at the moment, and Gabumon was happy wherever his partner was. He had been partway through the laundry when Koshiro’s message came in on the D-Terminal.

_Something just appeared at Aqua City. It sounds like a Digimon. Get there if you are available._

Well, laundry would have to wait in that case. The pair wasted no time in getting out of the apartment and hitting the street.

It seemed all too convenient to Yamato that Aqua City was the first place targeted, given how close it was to the Chosen Children’s apartments. Was it a coincidence that only Odaiba out of all the sprawling city of Tokyo was under attack? He thought of Ken, who had first alerted them to this mess, when he had awakened to find a strange man in his bedroom. For the first time the thought flashed consciously across Yamato’s mind: _They know where we live._

**“Darkness Wave!”**

The sun was blotted out. There was a crash as a tide of burning bats met the windows of the apartment building. The old instincts returned to Yamato and Gabumon, and before the sound had entirely died away an evolution was in progress.

**“Gabumon, Evolve! … Garurumon!”  
“Garurumon, Super Evolve! … WereGarurumon!”**

The wolf-like Digimon stood protectively by his partner. A Digimon Yamato knew to be a LadyDevimon stood in midair, laughing to see the effect of her entrance.

“What do you want?” WereGarurumon asked, interrupting her burst of mirth.

LadyDevimon’s laugh passed into a chuckle and stopped. She pointed a black-sheathed finger of her right hand with a lascivious smile.

“Oh, just your friend there,” she answered. Another, lower laugh bubbled up when she saw the Digimon tense. Slowly she descended until her heeled boots touched the ground. “So,” she said to Yamato, “Are you a good boy? Will you come easily? Or…” She shrugged her shoulders. The chain wrapped about her right arm rattled. Yamato did not reply, only stared steadily forward.

“He won’t,” WereGarurumon growled.

LadyDevimon threw her head back and laughed again. After recovering from the outburst, she faced them once more.

“Good! I had hoped so!”


	35. The Woods

_“‘There’s no end to ‘em – no end at all.’ Then he added in a lowered tone as if to himself, ‘There’s lots found out that, and gone plumb to pieces!’” – Algernon Blackwood, “The Wendigo”_

BlackTailmon stretched lazily. Though it couldn’t compete with cold moonlight, or the exciting glow of the city’s electricity, warm sunshine was by no means unpleasant to immerse oneself in. She lay on the roof of the building that Sato’s coven (for that was how she thought of the group) had made its headquarters, occasionally casting a half open eye upon the forest of skyscrapers surrounding it.

She had been busy all night, scrambling through the streets and alleys, watching the strange beings of this world milling about on their various inscrutable, superfluous missions. For the most part, they passed by without taking notice of her. Several times she had gotten incurious glances, the humans apparently taking her for some odd breed of cat and forgetting the encounter.

There had only been one time she felt nervous. That was when a man with a newspaper tucked under his arm had spotted her sitting in the mouth of an alleyway, and had stared at her doubtfully for several minutes. She pretended to pay no attention, and eventually he went about his business. Earlier, a child had approached her with intent to stroke, but she hadn’t been intimidated – she scratched him for the fun of it, not for self-preservation, and marveled at how fragile these creatures were.

She purred as a breeze whispered through her fur. She had been on the rooftop for some time now. The excitement and strangeness of being in a new world prevented her from falling asleep for long, but neither cats nor cat-like Digimon were known for their industriousness, and she had no plans of relocating any time soon.

Something else had amused her last night. While in a more sparsely populated part of the city, she had witnessed one human, ornamented by tattoos, threatening another, shoving his target against a nearby wall. She hadn’t been close enough to hear what was said, though the person being intimidated was allowed to go after conciliatory talk or a promise of some sort. _Well,_ she thought at the time, _it’s pretty clear what just happened there. Maybe we aren’t so different after all._

That had been the last of the evening’s highlights. Eventually the dawn began to break, and BlackTailmon carefully retraced her steps to the building where Hiraga awaited her return. After checking in, she had felt the need to relax a bit, and so took the oversized elevator to the roof.

***

The forest seemed to stretch on forever. The trees were not very close together while one was near them, but ahead and behind the sheer number of them stretching on into the distance blotted out the horizon with a solid wall of fir trees. And everything was so silent. The Digital World was not densely populated, and lacking the omnipresent birds and insects of the human world it could often seem very lonely and lifeless in places far from civilization.

Ken and Shadramon talked little, so that the only sounds that broke the silence were the result of a Dark Tower falling to an attack. Ken and Daisuke had stuck together, as on the previous two days, but with such a wide area to sweep they had been following roughly parallel paths through the woods some distance removed from each other. Every once in a while Ken would hear the distant sound of Kangaroomon felling another tower. He had learned to expect the sounds periodically, but they were always startling in such complete stillness.

Why was everything so empty? It was unusual to see no signs of any life other than themselves. Ken thought back to Takeru and Iori’s story of Poseidonis, the possible explanation of what had happened in Arkham. But in this forest there were no signs of ruins or recent habitation. Ken couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that it had never been inhabited. That thought was uncomfortable. Because if it was true, there might be a very good reason why.

**“Flare Buster!”**

Another Dark Tower broke under the pressure of Shadramon’s flames, toppled, and scattered fragments of itself about the forest floor. Shadramon flew on ahead, and Ken followed, not looking aside at the ruined tower. For some reason the fallen structures reminded him of the previous night’s most often recurring dream, snapshots of the accident that had caused his brother’s death.

“Shadramon?” It seemed wrong to break the silence with articulate speech, but Ken was in need of conversation. “Would you like to take a break?”

“I’m fine, Ken-chan. Let’s just keep going until we’re out of these woods. Daisuke and Kangaroomon haven’t stopped yet.”

So they pressed on. An unusually long interval seemed to pass between Dark Towers. Ken thought that they may have missed one by moving straight ahead instead of taking a more meandering route, but he didn’t speak up and suggest that they double back. He wanted to find the other side of this forest. He admitted that to himself, and had a feeling Wormmon felt the same way. He ignored the small voice at the back of his mind, the one saying, _But maybe there is no end. Maybe it keeps going and going until all the world is behind you, and only trees and silence ahead._

But then the silence was broken. It was a voice. Hoarse, echoing, windy. It sounded lonely, but not in a way that excited pity. The voice was too powerful, too horrible, to be pitied. It floated down to them from above, and its message consisted of a single word of four clear syllables.

_“Ichijouji!”_

The cry seemed to fill Ken with ice. And the cold did not remain wholly internal. In an instant the sky darkened and the temperature dropped. He heard Shadramon’s repeated calls of “Ken-chan! Ken-chan!” But the voice of his partner seemed to grow more distant with each repetition, as though a gap was widening rapidly between them, though Ken had not moved since the calling of his name rooted him to the spot. Soon he could not hear Shadramon at all.

The first shock of the metamorphosis quickly wore off, and he looked about him. The forest was much the same, but all the light seemed to have gone out of the sky. Snow covered the ground, and crunched beneath the boy’s feet. There was no sign of Shadramon. All was still and silent again, but Ken waited nervously, fighting a rising panic, for whatever would come to end that stillness, and that silence.

He did not have to wait long. Again the silence was destroyed by a voice – not the same voice, but just as terrible in its way. It was human, at least, though warped by what may have been terror, or exertion, or blasphemous exultation. As with the first, it came from somewhere aloft. The worst was that he recognized it, even distorted as it was with nameless emotions.

“Ah! Ah! This fiery height! This rushing wind! Ah! I’m burning! My body is burning!”

Ken’s mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. He felt dizzy and numb. For a few moments his lips worked soundlessly, but eventually he found his voice, and formed his simple, quavering question.

“Onii-san?” Then, louder, in a sort of desperation, “Onii-san!”

A blast of cold wind answered him, rushing out of the arcades of trees and driving him back a step in its sudden fury. It was over after the first great gust, but it was followed instantaneously by the rush of displaced air off in the forest, and a heavy thud as though something had hit the ground with tremendous force. For an instant the silence resumed, but then there was the sound of footfalls crunching on the snow.

The progress was slow, deliberate but clumsy. The approach lasted longer than it should have – if the walker had been so far away Ken would never have heard its first steps. Then again, in this perfect stillness…

Ever so slowly, something was coming, making its broken, shambling way towards him. He told himself that he didn’t know what to expect, but it wasn’t true. Hadn’t he dreamed it just last night? Could this be a dream? It was so very cold.

Finally, from out of the darkness under the trees, a figure stumbled into view. _He’s no taller than I am,_ Ken thought numbly. There was a strange sense of déjà vu about the entire scene. But there were many differences. The scenery bore no resemblance to the landscape of BelialVamdemon’s illusion. And the last time he had watched himself die.

But the difference his mind kept returning to was standing in front of him. In the vision on New Year’s Eve, Ichijouji Osamu had appeared just as his brother remembered him from life. Now what stood before Ken was Osamu as he had been in death. Though Ken had seen his brother’s corpse, after the speeding car had run him down, the details of the scene had mercifully erased themselves from his memory. But last night his dreams had shown him, and the thing that had staggered out of the forest depths was a perfect replica. But it was standing. And the eyes weren’t glazed and vacant, but alive, and fixed on him.

As for the rest… The head bulged in odd places, and there was a long red gash in the forehead. The right arm hung limp and oddly twisted. When Osamu had made his entrance, it was plain to see that one of his legs was no longer functioning properly. The whole body was a ruin.

_Could a car do all this?_ Ken wondered dimly. _One collision?_ But of course there had been three years, and the fall just now, and…

“Ken.”

The greeting was monotone, the voice oddly forced. Even the single syllable sounded labored, as though all the energy of Osamu’s voice had gone out of it with the shrieks in the sky. It was a cold word, with no sympathy behind it. Ken felt like he was nine years old again, caught with the Digivice in their shared bedroom. He couldn’t speak.

“It has been three years,” his brother said. “Where is it, Ken?”

Hardly realizing what he was doing, Ken raised his hand, the black D-3 hanging loosely in his grip.

“You changed it,” Osamu said. “You made it _better._ ”

At last Ken found his voice.

“I didn’t… mean to… The water…” His voice was a horse whisper. He paid no attention to what he was saying. “…wanted it, and—”

“Does it make you feel special?” Osamu grated.

Ken couldn’t answer.

“You must like it. You have to like it. _You killed me for it._ ”

A sound like a low whine escaped from Ken’s throat.

“But you paid for it,” Osamu went on. “Do you know what happened to the driver? He hanged himself. Because he hit me… and because of all the things wrong with his life. You wanted to die, too, didn’t you? Everyone had their greatest wish come true in their vision, and you _died._ ”

Ken couldn’t find the strength to retreat or reply. The living eyes in the dead, battered face held him.

“I don’t miss life, Ken. I’m glad I’m dead, because it hurt you, and because I hated my life. Always studying, never allowed to really live as I wished. But _that_ , that was _mine._ ”

The eyes bored into him, dragged a response from him.

“Please… Osamu… Nii-san…” He would do anything to take those cold, accusing eyes away. The D-3, the tool he had used to conquer the Digital World, was heavy in his hand. For it he was hunted. With it he had never known peace. Ken held it out in his trembling hand. “You… you can have it… if you want.”


	36. Maneuvers

_“It will be ripe in a yeare’s time to have up ye Legions from Underneath, and then there are no Boundes to what shal be oures.” – H. P. Lovecraft,_ The Case of Charles Dexter Ward

There was no battle immediately following LadyDevimon’s last exclamation. Each Digimon waited for the other to be the first to move. At last, LadyDevimon smirked again, and launched her attack.

**“Darkness Spear!”**

Her left arm was still changing as she charged toward them, but WereGarurumon guessed that by the time they clashed it would be needle sharp. Even as he leapt forward he had no idea how he would handle the situation. His first concern had been getting between Yamato and the enemy, but with that accomplished he was unsure of his next move. He knew there was no parrying that spear.

He instinctively solved the problem by lashing out with a low kick as he came. LadyDevimon faltered somewhat, and had to leave the ground again to avoid the attack. With an agility that surprised even his partner, WereGarurumon stopped dead and turned around, leaping into the air to follow her retreat. The demoness whirled about in midair, trying to bring her spike into a defensive position.

**“Full Moon Kick!”**

WereGarurumon’s claws rang against the spear-arm, and he was deflected, but managed to grab hold of a balcony railing and hang from the side of the building. LadyDevimon ascended rapidly and, coming even with him, unleashed her Darkness Wave. Again WereGarurumon leapt, trying to clear the burning bats and strike again at their mistress.

It was just what LadyDevimon had needed. She dived.

Yamato realized what she meant to do, but no human could outmaneuver such a Digimon. He flinched as she rushed past, and had no time to react before she had slung her long chain from her position behind him. With incredible rapidity the chain struck his right side, knocking the air from his lungs, and began to coil, spiraling up his body, pinioning his arms, and beginning to tighten.

By this time WereGarurumon had landed, and was rushing back to aid his partner, but before he could reach Yamato the boy was dragged backwards and against LadyDevimon. Her monstrously long left arm swept out, swiping the charging WereGarurumon and knocking him aside. Before the werewolf could recover, she had taken to the air again, Yamato rising with her. He tried to wriggle free of the chain, but it seemed to have a will of its own, and soon he was too far from the ground for freedom to have been any use.

“Goodbye, then!” LadyDevimon called as WereGarurumon stood on the pavement looking up at her, his lips drawn back from his fangs. “Now you go on struggling, boy,” she said to Yamato in a lower tone. “It’s not like there’s any chance of me dropping you.” The tightening chain cut off any reply he might have made as she began her flight back the way she had come.

Meanwhile, WereGarurumon was scaling one of the apartment buildings as rapidly as he could. His hope was to get above the enemy, though he still had no idea as to how to rescue his partner. Had he been able to evolve to Ultimate he would have stood a better chance, but without the capability of flight there might be no solution. He forced the thought away, and put all his strength and speed into the climb.

LadyDevimon looked down and smiled.

“Your dog may try something stupid,” she mused to Yamato. “Let’s not give him the opportunity.” Her ascent became more rapid, and Yamato shut his eyes and gritted his teeth to fight the dizziness that was coming over him.

LadyDevimon was grinning. It had been so easy. Now to return to the base and see how she would be rewarded.

But her good mood died with a burst of fiery pain in the back of her head. She was blinded for a moment by green light. The chain constricting Yamato went limp, and he plummeted. For a sickening second he was convinced that death was on its way, when he felt the embrace of WereGarurumon’s powerful arms. His partner had leapt from the apartment building’s top and caught him in midair.

“What happened?” Yamato gasped out as they landed on a lower roof, his breath not yet fully recovered. WereGarurumon pointed aloft.

“Piyomon.”

Yamato looked up and saw the brilliant light that heralded Super Evolution.

“Let’s get back to the ground,” WereGarurumon continued. Taking hold of his partner again, he jumped off the roof and landed safely. Yamato stepped gingerly to the pavement, and looking up saw that Sora was running towards them, a portrait of concern. Soon she threw her arms around him, and he returned the embrace. Above them, Garudamon could be seen stretching her wings and facing off with LadyDevimon, who seemed to have regained her balance.

“I thought we would be too late,” Sora said. “I didn’t know if he was able to catch you.”

Their reunion was interrupted by a message arriving on Sora’s D-Terminal.

“It’s from Jou,” she said, reading the message. “Zudomon’s in trouble.”

“Go help him,” Yamato said. Sora looked up at him, surprised.

“What about you?”

“We have a score to settle,” WereGarurumon answered her.

“But—”

“It’s alright,” Yamato assured her, smiling. “We’ll be careful, and WereGarurumon wouldn’t be able to fight in the water anyway.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Thanks. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t come when you did.”

Sora was silent for a moment, but eventually smiled thinly and nodded.

“Garudamon!”

***

**“Crimson Claw!”**

LadyDevimon attempted to get out of the way, but could not avoid being caught by Garudamon’s swipe, which knocked her out of the sky. She managed to catch herself before hitting the ground, and would have launched a counterattack had she not been surprised to see her opponent leaving the battlefield.

“Where are you going!?” she yelled.

“I’m your enemy.”

LadyDevimon turned to see WereGarurumon and the Chosen Child. Regaining her composure with an effort, she replied, sneering.

“Oh? Because things went so well for you the last time?”

“We won’t fall for the same trick twice,” WereGarurumon answered.

“Let’s see!” The change in the left arm began, and the demoness plunged forward.

***

“We have another incident like Poseidonis in progress,” Sato said offhand. He was sitting in the central control room, working on one of the smaller computers but occasionally glancing up at the main screen. He didn’t know if there was anyone else in the room, but he had a feeling he would get an answer.

“Yes,” the Dark Man said from somewhere behind him. “Pink Dot and Red Dot have interrupted our Cyclomon division. Green and Yellow are wandering around the marshlands. They may run into MasterTyrannomon or they may not.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sato said.

“No indeed.”

“They can’t patrol the entire Digital World, and before long we will have all the material we need.”

“You don’t need to reassure _me._ ”

Sato knew it, and accepted the jab. He kept going over the current situation in his head, trying to convince himself of their invulnerability. Last night the final seal had broken; Neptunemon was defeated, and now everything rested on the generators. Surely there was nothing the Chosen could—

Sato paused in his reverie to frown.

“Why is Ichijouji’s signal so weak? The black marker keeps fading in and out.”

The Dark Man chuckled.

“Nothing to worry about, Sato-san. I set up a special little surprise for him and Blue Dot.”

Sato turned around.

“A Digimon with rather unique abilities,” the Dark Man explained. “The encounter should prove most entertaining.”

Sato didn’t bother to ask the details, but got back to his work. He knew that there was an astonishing range of Digimon under his control. He had called forth the Dark Man earlier in the year, knowing that he would need help gathering Digimon sympathetic to the great cause. The Dark Man had not disappointed. The coven of Arkham, Lilithmon and her demonic followers, even the mighty Anubimon, had been bound to the Dark One’s will.

Sato hadn’t had much time for overseeing his growing army. Up until several days ago much of his effort had gone into the construction of the base, the perfecting of his group’s inter-spatial technology, the designing of the generators, and mastering his use of the call to invade the dreams of others. But all the while, in the back of his mind, he wondered if somewhere, amid all the Digimon the Dark Man had recruited, there was a monster who could finally overcome the Chosen Children.


	37. Shockwaves

_“‘You are becoming more psychic than I imagined. Was your apparition anything like one of these?’” – Clark Ashton Smith, “The Hunters from Beyond”_

**“Jumping Blow!”**

The Dark Tower cracked at its base, and another punch was enough to split it open. The top fell heavily over, crashed into one of the sturdy trees, and broke in multiple places. There was no doubt that the tower had been put out of commission.

“Man, this place just goes on forever,” Daisuke complained in the stillness that followed.

“Cheer up, Daisuke,” his partner answered. “At least we aren’t being attacked this time.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” he replied, not sounding much cheered. Kangaroomon hopped forward again, and Daisuke began to follow, but stopped suddenly in his tracks. He turned his head in the direction which he knew Ken and Shadramon to be in. Looking back at his partner, he saw that the Digimon had also stopped, and was looking in the same direction.

“Did you hear—?” he began, but broke off when he felt it again, stronger this time.

_Help!_

Hearing was really the wrong word for it. There was a voice in his head, faint but discernable. Even without his ears having brought it to him, he had an idea where it was coming from, and had the feeling that he had heard it before.

_Help! Help!_

It was coming much more clearly now, and soon Daisuke and Kangaroomon were both moving as fast as they could in the emanation’s direction. They could now plainly recognize the voice of Shadramon. The wall of trees seemed almost to part before them, and within minutes they caught the bright splash of red that marked the location of Ken’s partner.

Shadramon was hovering in midair, frantically twisting about as though in search of something. Daisuke took in the sight at about the same time it occurred to him to wonder where Ken had gone, and it was easy enough to figure out what the problem was.

“Ken-chan! Ken-chan!” Another twist brought him around to face his two friends. “Kangaroomon! Daisuke! Ken-chan is…”

“Where is he?” Daisuke asked. The fierceness in the human’s voice helped to restore a measure of Shadramon’s courage, and dropping to the ground he told them what had happened. There wasn’t much to tell. An awful voice had called out of the air, pronouncing Ken’s name. The boy had been behind Shadramon at the time, so his partner hadn’t seen what happened next, but he had felt a blast of frigid wind sweep out from the forest and the sky. Upon turning around, he could not find Ken anywhere, and his panic had rapidly mounted.

“I’m so glad you came when you did. But we have to find him!”

The strangeness of their arrival temporarily forgotten, Daisuke and Kangaroomon joined Shadramon in calling for Ken. When there was still no answer, Daisuke suggested that they go in different directions to search for their missing companion.

Shadramon took to the air, rising above the trees to broaden the horizons of his search, while Daisuke and his partner took the forest floor. Daisuke did not try to stick close to his partner. Ken was his friend, and he was willing to risk his own safety to cover more ground. But the trees went on forever in every direction, unbroken, and nothing walked among them but the two searchers. The pair had drawn some distance apart before Kangaroomon decided it would be safer if they stuck together, and began to make his way back to where he could see Daisuke zealously hunting for his lost comrade.

But as Kangaroomon’s hops brought him nearer, he saw that something strange was happening. The air around Daisuke seemed to be moving, as though ghostly ribbons were trailing through it. In a second Daisuke raised his head, startled. Kangaroomon cried out, but in another moment the ripples of wind picked up speed, and the boy vanished before his partner’s astonished gaze.

“Shadramon!”

With a rustling of leaves, the insect Digimon was beside him.

“Daisuke is gone too?”

“He disappeared!” Kangaroomon exclaimed. “I saw him just disappear!”

Shadramon took a look around them. The panicked worry he felt for his partner had subsided somewhat into a sort of awe and dread. The quiet forest seemed almost sentient, subtly alive with menace. For the first time Shadramon wondered if something terrible were about to happen to himself.

Kangaroomon began to shout Daisuke’s name, but the word was cut off by another sound, the first he had heard in these terrible woods that he had not made.

It was a dull, heavy sound, a measured thudding that was slowly and deliberately approaching them from out of the forest. The two Digimon could hear branches snapping nearby, and soon saw one particularly large branch ripped forcibly from a tree to fall to the forest floor without any visible cause. The thuds, now recognizable as titanic footfalls, stopped just short of where the pair stood in doubt and apprehension.

Slowly something swam into view out of the empty air. It was a dark form – humanoid, but only vaguely. Whatever was materializing dwarfed both of the Chosen Digimon – it must have stood well over twenty feet tall. Soon its color and details could be made out, and Kangaroomon felt the added shock of recognition.

“Wen…Wendimon!” The previous year he had encountered a Digimon of the same species, Wallace’s wayward partner, in the vast open spaces of North America. This second specimen was much larger, and simply by the feel of its presence he knew that it was not confused as the first had been. This thing was evil.

Wendimon tilted its head upward and screamed. Its windy cry shook the leaves of the trees, and led Shadramon and Kangaroomon to step back in unwonted fear. Wendimon flexed its monstrous hands and raised them menacingly as the horrific sound died away. Then, with a speed rendered unearthly by its bulk, it was upon them.

***

Jou could do nothing more than watch, horrified, as Zudomon remained immobile amidst the arcs of energy. The Chosen Digimon’s screams had grown shriller for a time, but he was quickly becoming hoarse. NeoDevimon had not yet moved either, or even spoken since his “experiment” began. Jou had not tried to reason or plead with the demonic Digimon; he knew he could expect no mercy from this thing.

“I am certain,” NeoDevimon said at last, “that this would not be taking so long if my claws were still hooked in him, but this is more entertaining. There has never been a Digimon to escape from this attack once it has begun, though some took a good while to die.”

“You…”

But Jou couldn’t think of anything else to say. He looked out again over the luminous water to his tortured partner.

“Zudomon!”

There was no reaction. Jou knew that with the pain and distance his partner would never be able to hear him, but the situation demanded some reaction from him. He would have thrown himself on NeoDevimon, as he had once tried to remove the Black Gear from Unimon, or rushed to his partner’s side, but the bay prevented both. He yelled again, louder.

_“Zudomon!”_

This second cry was actually answered.

**“Shadow Wing!”**

Down from the sky dived a bird-like shape of flame. The waters of the bay erupted, hiding NeoDevimon from sight. With the suddenness of the attack and the spray it threw into the air, there was no way of telling whether he had been hit or not, but it could be plainly seen that his attack had ended. The water ceased its glowing, and the first great splash was followed by another as Zudomon, released from the attack’s grip, toppled slowly backwards and sank silently into the bay.

“Jou.” Sora had appeared beside him.

“Sora-san!” he said, a little surprised by her sudden appearance. He turned quickly back to the bay and searched the sky. “Where’s the enemy?” He could plainly see Garudamon high above him, but there was still no sign of NeoDevimon.

“Maybe she got him,” Sora suggested, but she had no time to say more before the both of them detected movement near Garudamon’s position. Approaching the giant bird Digimon at bullet-like speed was a much smaller shape. The Chosen Children couldn’t make out what it was at that distance, but they had knew what it had to be.

Garudamon could see NeoDevimon’s approach, but had little time to react. One of his arms was outstretched, barbed claws extended towards his target like harpoon ends. Garudamon managed to get her hand up. It wasn’t much of a shield. The claws effortlessly pierced through the skin, and Garudamon’s natural reaction was to sling her hand out, dislodging her enemy, whose grip was ripped loose, leaving ragged holes in her scaly flesh. Garudamon wheeled around in the air, trying to follow NeoDevimon, but he had already disappeared from view.

In fact, he had recovered quickly from being thrown, and his superior speed and small size allowed him to get under Garudamon and behind her without being noticed. Again the reddish-brown wings were spread. NeoDevimon was ready to unleash their full fury.

**“Deep Sorrow.”**

The wings thrust themselves forward, and a steady stream of frigid shadow blasted Garudamon in the back between her own wings. Propelled forward by the force of the attack, she was able to stop herself only by colliding with one of the Aqua City buildings, leaving a network of cracks in the structure’s surface. NeoDevimon continued to pour forth his black energy. By now the air had congealed around him into a sphere of foggy darkness, and the poisonous atmosphere came with him as he moved forward to close the distance between himself and his opponent.

Garudamon dug the talons of her hands into the rooftop before her, trying to push back against the stream. It was a slow, painful process. She was beginning to worry that NeoDevimon might be able to keep the attack going at the same strength indefinitely.

But he did not intend to do so. Coming within close range, NeoDevimon allowed the darkness around him to disperse. He prepared to strike with Guilty Claw, but was surprised when Garudamon managed a weak backhanded strike. He dodged it with little effort, but had to give up on his attack. Garudamon turned to face him, propping herself up on the damaged building with her elbows. She was panting heavily, and it was quite possible that had she not had the building for support she would have been unable to stay upright.

NeoDevimon hovered just before her aquiline face. At such a close distance she could make out the details of his form, particularly the gold mask through which three pairs of eyes watched her coldly. Yet behind him, she saw something else. The green spines of Zudomon’s shell slowly and silently broke the waters of the bay. No sooner had she seen them than she locked her gaze again on NeoDevimon, willing him to focus solely on her, to not notice the suddenly purposeful waves washing below him. NeoDevimon’s voice emanated unimpaired from behind the mask.

“I had expected more from the Chosen Digimon. Farewell.”

He raised his claws once more, as Zudomon’s head surfaced.

**“Guilty—”**

**“Thor Hammer!”**

The silver weapon shot up out of the water, its grip reversed. NeoDevimon was caught in the upswing. A shock ran through his entire body, up from his broken legs to the gold mask which shattered to reveal the horror of his face. There was a shrill scream, the first trace of emotion the demon had ever shown, and by the time gravity reversed his upward momentum, he was beginning the process of deletion.


	38. Separated

_“The cry was not repeated; his own hoarse calling brought no response; the inscrutable forces of the Wild had summoned their victim beyond recall – and held him fast.” – Algernon Blackwood, “The Wendigo”_

As Ken made his offer, the corpse-thing before him slowly lifted its battered left arm. The mouth pulled itself into a kind of grimacing grin, and he could see that several teeth were missing. Osamu took the D-3 from Ken’s hand, and Ken shivered at the feel of his dead brother’s fingers, which were colder even than the frigid air that hung around them.

“Now…” the lich said in its wasted voice, “Now it is where it belongs. You are now back to the nothingness you were meant to be.”

Ken had drawn his hand back against his chest. All the blood had gone from his face. He wondered what would happen, now that Osamu had what he wanted. Maybe his brother would kill him and avenge itself, or maybe it would shamble back into the darkness of the woods and leave him to wander there for eternity.

_Ken-chan… I need you here._

Was that Shadramon’s voice? It must have been imagination. Shadramon was not here, and the sound – if it could even be called sound – was so faint and far. But the voice came again, and became a droning plea that echoed through Ken’s mind.

Osamu was raising the Digivice above his misshapen head. A wave of darkness spread outwards from the D-3, the opposite of the light that brought evolution. Ken felt nothing, and there was no visible effect of the black emanation, but at its coming the imagined voice of Shadramon was abruptly cut off.

***

The battle commenced with Wendimon’s pounce. Kangaroomon managed to beat back one massive hand with a flurry of punches, but the larger monster seemed more annoyed than pained by it. Shadramon flew up above the trees to use Flare Buster, but his flames simply bounced off the enemy’s primitive helmet. In retaliation Wendimon extended its right arm and lashed the insect Digimon as with a whip, knocking Shadramon backwards and leaving Kangaroomon temporarily alone.

Curling its left hand into a fist, Wendimon threw a punch of its own. Kangaroomon’s gloves came up to block it, but he may as well have tried to block an oncoming train. The force of the blow drove him back against one of the trees, and he fell to the ground, the wind knocked out of him. Wendimon reached forward to squeeze the life from him.

**“Flare Buster!”**

A barrage of fireballs crashed into Wendimon’s chest, and it stumbled backwards.

“Are you alright, Kangaroomon?”

Daisuke’s partner got back to his feet and managed a nod. The pair of them faced Wendimon as the monster stepped towards them again, but before the fight could resume, Shadramon reverted without warning to Wormmon.

“Wormmon! What happened?”

The larval Digimon was looking down at his unintimidating body in disbelief. He couldn’t answer. The power of his evolution had simply been sucked out of him in an instant, and now a caterpillar was left to take on the behemoth that was Wendimon.

***

Daisuke looked about him in wonderment. The forest was much the same, but the sun had apparently vanished, and the ground was newly concealed by a blanket of snow. He had heard Kangaroomon call his name, but now all was silent again. He was about to call out himself when he was stopped by something lying on the ground some distance away. He moved in that direction, and as he approached he began to see that it wasn’t an object, but rather an impression in the snow.

Once he had come up with it, he could see that what he had found was a footprint of some kind. The print was huge, with the impressions of three large claws at one end. Obviously only a Digimon could make a print like that. But where had it gone?

Daisuke swiveled his head around to see if he could spot another track, and caught sight of one in the direction that the first footprint pointed. There was quite a stretch between the two. It would take him several long jumps to cover that distance. He continued onward, following the tracks. It occurred to him that he might not want to catch up with this thing, but he knew how huge the woods were, and that he would never be able to find his way out unless someone showed him.

_Is this where Ken went?_ he thought. _Maybe this thing got him._ The idea caused him to hurry more, but eventually the tracks seemed to have ended. As far ahead as he went he couldn’t find another one, and thinking back he couldn’t be sure if the distance between them hadn’t gotten bigger with each print.

“Man, I wish V-mon was here…”

The forest was starting to spook him. Having just one more person there would have been enough to shake the feeling, but alone, without his team members, Daisuke felt strangely weak and exposed. The forest was much darker now. In those shadows there might be any number of concealed enemies waiting for the opportunity to close in.

Several times Daisuke turned suddenly around, trying to surprise anything that might be lurking behind him. He tried to laugh at himself, but the sound was small and ineffectual. In the end, he could not prevent himself from breaking into a nervous jog. He no longer followed the direction that the mysterious footprints had led in – to tell the truth he had forgotten which direction that was.

There’s no telling how the situation might have played out if he hadn’t stumbled over something in his path. He scrambled back to his feet and called on his remaining courage, trying to look like someone who should not be attacked offhand. A few quick glances, however, showed him that there was no one there. When he looked down to see what had tripped him up, he saw that it was a sunken place in the forest floor. The bottom was devoid of snow, but there was a barely noticeable ring of snow around it piled higher than elsewhere. It looked almost like a small crater.

Temporarily forgetting his fear, Daisuke scanned the ground around the depression and noticed a new set of footprints. These were human-shaped, pretty clearly made by shoes of some kind. Could they be Ken’s? There was only one way to find out.

***

Kangaroomon and Wormmon could hear the trees crashing behind them as Wendimon continued its pursuit. Once Wormmon had devolved, Kangaroomon knew that there was no chance of beating the giant without Wormmon getting hurt in the process. He hated to run from a fight just as much as his human partner did, but with both of the Chosen Digimon unable to evolve, and one of them only in his Child-level form, there was no choice.

With Wormmon huddled in his front pouch, Kangaroomon hopped as quickly as his powerful legs could propel him through the forest, dodging between trees. Wendimon was on their heels, ploughing through whatever stood in its way. At first Kangaroomon had appeared to have superior speed, but once Wendimon could no longer keep up by running it had began to make huge flying leaps, and now gradually gained on its targets.

But all of a sudden the sounds of pursuit ceased. Kangaroomon kept on anyway, not sure if the pause might be a trick to get him to slacken his speed. When he had gotten some distance and still heard nothing, however, he did stop his jumping and turned around to look back the way they had come. To his surprise, there was no sign of Wendimon. Had it really given up the chase?

He got his answer when there was a terrifying cacophony behind him. Trees fell over, the ground quaked, and Wendimon’s wild, alien scent washed over him. Spinning about in sudden panic, Kangaroomon was met with the nightmarish sight of Wendimon’s inhuman face thrust forward, madness in the beady red eyes, the dripping mouth wide open. The monster cried out again, pummeling Kangaroomon with its deadly voice while Wormmon cowered low in his pouch.

This time Daisuke’s partner was in too much aural pain to even attempt blocking Wendimon’s club-like arm. He was hit and flew back, breaking through several trees before coming to a stop. Wormmon had been thrown from his hiding place and lay motionless on the ground. Kangaroomon attempted to fight the weakness coming over him, but in the end he could not prevent reverting to V-mon.

***

Another cold wind blew through the woods. Ken wrapped his arms around himself and groaned softly, feeling as though he were drowning in ice water. From far off in the forest there came a low sound that brought him no comfort. It was a chuckle, unmistakably in the same voice that had summoned him to this haunted place, and Osamu gave his shattered grin again in answer to it.

“It’s almost time for me to go, Ken. Time to fly and burn. You can stay here until you freeze or starve. Before I go, I want you to know that your partner is dead. And his Digimon friend is dead. And all the rest of your worthless friends will be dead soon, too. That idiot with the goggles is here, but neither of you are getting out. I guess one of you will have to eat the other.”

Ken looked up at the living corpse again.

“Motomiya is…”

And it was as he spoke that he saw someone emerge from the darkness behind his dead brother.


	39. Returning to Reality

_“Out there, in the heart of unreclaimed wilderness, they had surely witnessed something crudely and essentially primitive. Something that had survived somehow the advance of humanity that had emerged terrifically, betraying a scale of life still monstrous and immature.” – Algernon Blackwood, “The Wendigo”_

It wasn’t long before Daisuke had followed the track of prints to its end.

Two people about his height stood in a small clearing. He wondered if one of the others had been brought to this place with him and Ken, but even before he got close enough to know what he was looking at he dismissed the idea. The person whose tracks he had followed was a repulsive, frightening figure, even from a distance, and somehow Daisuke knew that it was not a friend that faced Ken.

“Ken! Hey, Ken!”

The unknown person lurched awkwardly around at his call, and Daisuke saw that there was something in their left hand. Now he could guess what was going on. They had come for Ken’s D-3, just as the mysterious man had said they would. He ran ahead, ready to snatch the Digivice from the person’s hand, but soon he was close enough to see what he was approaching. Daisuke stopped short in surprise, but not in fear. Ken was here, and Daisuke knew that he would have to keep calm, because Ken needed his help.

“Ken… who is this?” Daisuke asked, not taking his eyes from the apparition.

“I’m his brother,” the corpse answered with some annoyance. “He made me disappear, but I came back on my own to take the Digivice he stole from me.”

“That’s Ken’s Digivice,” was Daisuke’s stolid answer. Ken spoke up quietly.

“M-Motomiya… He’s right. I wished he would go… I took the Digivice…”

“Good!” Daisuke exclaimed. “It belongs to you.”

“Shut up,” the thing said, stepping forward to menace him with its mangled features. “Get out of my way.”

But Daisuke didn’t budge.

“Give it back.”

“He doesn’t even want it back,” Osamu wheezed, “He knows it’s mine!”

Ken said nothing, and Daisuke’s frustration boiled over.

“If it was yours, why didn’t you use it?” he demanded of the creature. “Why does it work for him, and help Wormmon evolve?”

“ _Move,_ ” Osamu hissed loudly. Daisuke stood his ground, and clenched his fists. “What are you going to do?” the corpse asked. “ _Kill me?_ ”

Daisuke’s only answer was to make a lunge for the D-3. One of Osamu’s dead, mushy fingers came off in his gloved hand, but he had managed to reclaim the Digivice.

“Ken! This Digivice is yours! I don’t know what this thing is, but it isn’t your brother!”

Ken raised pleading eyes to his friend, but remained silent.

“Wormmon needs you!”

“He’s dead!” Osamu screamed. “Both your Digimon are dead!”

“Not if I know them,” Daisuke said, and his smile was unfeigned and confident. In his hand, Ken’s Digivice began to glow. Daisuke wasn’t looking at it, and didn’t notice, but he could see that there was thankfulness in Ken’s expression, and knew that this was the turning point.

***

V-mon was thrown upwards, cleared the treetops, and fell again. Before he could hit the ground, Wendimon’s whip-like arm descended, smashing him downward. The little blue Digimon bounced off the forest floor, turned over in midair, and landed on his stomach. He coughed, and a spatter of blood came up with it. Wendimon reached for him again, but stopped when a thread of sticky silk splattered against its hand.

Looking over, it could see Wormmon tugging, trying to drag the huge hand away from its purpose. Wendimon gave a jerk, ripping the thread and pulling Wormmon forward along the ground for a short distance. Wendimon turned and smacked a hand down on Ken’s partner. Wormmon wriggled, but was unable to escape as Wendimon began to press him into the ground, its idiot grin widening.

Soon, however, the grin vanished. Light was beginning to pour out from under Wendimon’s paw, and the giant began to meet with resistance. Not only was Wormmon not being crushed, he was apparently pushing back. Wendimon redoubled its efforts, but by now the light was beginning to actually burn. Smoke rose as Wendimon’s hand was scorched, and with a mournful cry of pain it was withdrawn.

V-mon had just managed to crawl back up off the ground, and he watched as the freed light brightened and expanded moment by moment. It filled him with a familiar sensation, just as strong now as whenever he evolved to Fladramon.

**“Wormmon, Armor Evolve!...Shadramon!”**

At last the light faded, and where it had been stood Shadramon, as radiant as though his armor were actual flame.

**“Flare Buster!”**

The blazing projectiles found their marks all over Wendimon’s hulking body, exploding on impact and driving the evil beast backwards. Shadramon watched, marveling at his own power. It was more than just attack strength. He could feel Ken and Daisuke, almost hear their voices in his mind.

_Wormmon, I’m sorry. I won’t give up. Please help us._

Shadramon thought he knew how. Wherever the two humans had disappeared to, he instinctively knew how to call them back.

**“Psychic…Wave!”**

***

The light was growing in the dark, frozen wood. Daisuke held Ken’s brilliant D-3 up triumphantly, and his own Digivice matched its brightness.

“You didn’t cause your brother’s death,” Daisuke continued, “and you shouldn’t have to pay for it anymore.”

Beside the two Chosen Children, the Osamu-thing was making noises like the escape of gas from a valve. “Stop that! Stop!”

Daisuke paid it no attention. He walked over to where Ken stood with tears running down his smiling face, and held out the black Digivice.

“This is yours.”

**_Psychic Wave!_ **

They both heard it plainly this time, with their minds rather than their ears. Shadramon’s voice swept through the dark forest like a warm wave, and as the wave passed the scene began to fade the way a mist might disperse. Sunlight tore rents in the shadowy fabric of Wendimon’s artificial space, and where it fell the snow was replaced by grass. Ken saw the animated corpse go out like a candle flame, its final defeated wail becoming the outraged cry of Wendimon.

Now the boys could see Shadramon standing with his back towards them, facing Wendimon as V-mon supported himself with the trunk of a nearby tree. Wendimon had its head clutched in its hands.

“Shadramon!”

Ken’s partner turned and saw him.

“Ken-chan! I heard you!” Shadramon reverted to Wormmon, and waddled forward to leap into Ken’s outstretched arms.

In the meantime, Daisuke had reached V-mon.

“Are you okay, V-mon?”

“I am now. Let’s evolve, Daisuke!”

“Let’s finish this fight and go home, Ken-chan.”

The humans raised their still-glowing D-3s.

**“V-mon, Evolve!...XV-mon!”  
“Wormmon, Evolve!...Stingmon!”**

**“X Laser!”**

The beam from XV-mon’s chest hit Wendimon in the stomach, and the creature doubled over in pain. Stingmon flew forward, one arm extended in front of him like a lance.

**“Spiking Finish!”**

Wendimon weakly raised its hand, and Stingmon’s glowing purple spike plunged straight through the palm and out the back before being retracted. For the last time Wendimon screamed its rage and pain. Stingmon’s other arm came up, the spike extended, and he drove it with all the force he could muster into Wendimon’s abdomen. The monster went down without another sound, and as the four friends watched it disintegrated, the pixilated fragments of its data scattering in a fresh, rising wind.

An hour later, and they had left the woods behind them.


	40. Breaking Impasse

_“Darkness fell upon a stricken countryside too passive to organize for real defence. In a few cases closely related families would band together and watch in the gloom under one roof; but in general there was only a repetition of the barricading of the night before, and a futile, ineffective gesture of loading muskets and setting pitchforks handily about.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Dunwich Horror”_

The second battle was not going much better than the first had. WereGarurumon managed to keep Yamato out of harm’s way, but never had an opportunity to launch a counterattack. For a while LadyDevimon had toyed with her opponent, not really fighting WereGarurumon so much as aiming to recapture her target. But—

“That’s enough playing,” she said after a while. “If you won’t give up, I’ll put you out of the game.” So saying, she closed her right hand on the chain whip and slung it out again. It caught WereGarurumon in the side, the force of the blow wrapping it around him like a lasso. He caught hold of the length in front of him with his hands, but before he had a chance to jerk her off balance electricity surged through the chain. Every muscle in his body automatically tensed. The current was running through him where the metal links touched his torso and hands. The brass knuckles he wore on his left hand all but glowed; it was there that the pain was most intense.

LadyDevimon let out another of her shrill laughs.

“You know,” she said, “you may have had a chance if it wasn’t for that human dragging you down. He’ll be almost as responsible for killing you as I am. Which reminds me…” She turned her red gaze on Yamato. “Why are you still here?”

Yamato stood as close to his partner as he safely could, teeth clenched, unable to help. He returned LadyDevimon’s smirk with a stare that made his hatred plainer than any words could have.

“He won’t run!” LadyDevimon remarked with amusement. “Determined to ruin my fun, I see. Maybe when his dog is gone I can have my chase.” She leaned forward and addressed WereGarurumon again. “But, you know, the real fun doesn’t begin until I’ve brought him back. I don’t know what they want with him, but I can tell it’s going to be something deliciously nasty! I may even get to join in. That boy last night didn’t quite satisfy me. Kicked off to early. Maybe your friend will last longer.”

WereGarurumon’s tightly shut eyelids fought their way open, and his snarl broadened. LadyDevimon did not notice. She raised her long left arm above her head, and flexed her red claws.

“Goodbye, doggie. **_Poi—_** ”

WereGarurumon’s arms yanked explosively backwards. The demoness was dragged forward, to within feet of him, her claws now behind her opponent. There were signs of surprise in her expression, but they were quickly replaced with another cruel smile.

“Oh? Now what are you going to do?”

The muscles in the werewolf Digimon’s arms bulged where not constrained by leather and cloth, veins clearly visible through the close fur. His right hand unclenched, releasing the chain, and his arm drew back with such suddenness that LadyDevimon had no time to react.

**“Kaiser Nail!”**

The arm swept forward. The claws on the hand trailed light behind them. With an unsettling ripping sound, those claws tore effortlessly through LadyDevimon’s clothing and flesh. Her mouth hung open, but no sound came out. In another moment she had exploded into particles of data that dissolved in the air. The chain’s electricity went out of it, and it fell slack. It evaporated like a fuse, the disintegration beginning where LadyDevimon had held it.

WereGarurumon dropped to one knee, propping himself up with one hand as Yamato knelt down beside him. In a few more seconds WereGarurumon had shrunk back into Gabumon, and Yamato wrapped his arms around his partner with a smile.

“You did great, Gabumon.”

He looked up and cast a glance down the street.

“Let’s go find Sora.”

***

Hikari and Miyako stood side by side atop the fortress’s wall, leaning on it and looking out over the fields below them. Tailmon and Hawkmon were inside, accepting the gifts of food foisted on them by the fort’s grateful inhabitants.

The girls and their partners had spent the day in an area of the Digital World more densely populated than what they had cleared of Dark Towers on previous days. There were a number of towns that, like Arkham, were no longer inhabited, and the Chosen had wondered why until getting swept up in the rush of battle, after which the situation was explained to them.

After a while they had seen the hilltop fortress from a distance, and saw that it was under siege. Dark Towers ringed it in on all sides, and strange dragonish Digimon had been attacking, sweeping defenders from the walls with arms that seemed almost elastic. Knowing that the attackers must be allied with the enemy, the Chosen jumped right in in helping to rescue the fort.

The battle had been long and hard-won. Though the enemy Digimon were unable to fly, their arms really were capable of stretching to great distances, and it was all Holsmon and Nefertimon could do to avoid the clawed appendages that shot up to swipe at them. The things did not go down without a fight, absorbing an incredible amount of firepower before being deleted. When their ranks had thinned somewhat, Holsmon dropped Miyako off in the fort and changed to Shurimon, who had held off the remaining attackers while Nefertimon turned her attention to the Dark Towers. Eventually the enemy retreated just as Iori and Submarimon had seen them do at Poseidonis: with the destruction of the last Dark Tower, the remaining attackers blinked out of existence in an icy light.

In the aftermath of the fight, the Chosen Children and their partners had spoken with the survivors of the fort, and learned from them the reason for the abandoned towns. In the past several days a great number of heavily populated areas had been attacked. One or more Dark Towers would appear, followed quickly by an invasion of strange Digimon. Survivors of these incidents reported that these mysterious adversaries would capture a town’s inhabitants before disappearing as suddenly as they came. Digimon taken by the attackers were not seen again, and entire towns, such as Arkham and Kingsport, had been completely depopulated.

As might be expected, nerves were on edge. A number of Digimon had willingly left their homes to move to more densely populated areas, relying on numbers to prevent themselves from sharing the same fate as those the enemy took, whatever it was. The fortress was one such place where Digimon had gathered for protection, the Gladimon who lived there opening up its doors to the surrounding communities.

Stirring from idle reflections on the battle, Miyako straightened and stretched.

“The sun should be setting pretty soon, Hikari-chan.”

Hikari nodded, but remained expressionless.

“Should we head home when the Digimon are done eating?”

“Mm.” The other girl roused herself and gave her friend a smile. “We got a lot done today. I’m sure Tailmon and Hawkmon are tired.”

Miyako could go along with that. Now that the excitement of the battle had worn off, home sounded good, even with the menace of the previous night’s events still hanging over it. She chose to ignore what the future might bring. Without thinking about it as such, she knew that it would be best to focus on the present.

***

Sato Katsu was pacing about the main control room. He had said nothing after repeating aloud the message he had received informing him of the destruction of Neo- and LadyDevimon. The Dark Man sat in a corner of the room, leaning back in his chair and observing the ceiling. To all appearances he was occupied with his own thoughts, and he didn’t interrupt.

“Ridiculous,” Sato muttered at last. “Every advantage. The other Digimon were fighting with their partners as a handicap. And we still didn’t get them. At least I was right in stopping the mercenary from attempting it. The Chosen have survived everything we’ve thrown at them. If Millenniumon were still alive…”

“Millenniumon’s not dead,” the Dark Man said. “Or… not exactly.”

Sato stopped and looked at him, placing his hands on a table and leaning forward.

“Well he isn’t _here,_ ” he said irritably. “And there are no signs that he’s ever coming back.”

Sato resumed his pacing.

“If I had a Digimon of Millenniumon’s caliber things would be much easier. These demons and demigods that we’ve been throwing at the enemy are not up to the task. What I need is a true God of Darkness.”

For a moment there was silence except for Sato’s footfalls, then the Dark Man nodded to himself and sat up.

“Wisemon could help you there,” he said.

“Who?” Sato asked, jerking his head around to look at the speaker. “Oh, that Digimon you found. What do you mean he could help? What could he possibly do?”

The Dark Man’s smile returned, somewhat slyer than usual.

“It’s what I picked him up for. He’s an opener of ways, like Anubimon. He wasn’t at first, but I’ve turned his natural talents into useful channels.”

Sato considered the new information. It explained to him why the Dark Man had bothered recruiting Wisemon, who had not left his unusual study since the first and last time Sato saw him. Sato had thought before about using Anubimon to summon something up, but the jackal-headed Digimon had insisted it was beyond his ability to open a gate for the required length of time.

“You’re sure he could do it?” he asked at last.

“Not certain, but it couldn’t hurt to test his abilities.”

Sato nodded.

“We’ll do it tonight, then.”

The Dark Man’s smile broadened.


	41. Consolidation

_“‘There are sacraments of evil as well as of good around us, and we live and move to my belief in an unknown world, a place where there are caves and shadows and dwellers in twilight. It is possible that man may sometimes return on the track of evolution, and it is my belief that an awful lore is not yet dead.’” – Arthur Machen, “The Red Hand”_

Daisuke’s group was the first to return to the human world. Though their encounter with Wendimon had ended well, Daisuke knew that the experience had shaken Ken, and had therefore decided that they should get out of the Digital World as soon as they could. For the most part, Ken was silent.

Daisuke hoped that his friend would take what he had said to heart. After the scene with the thing claiming to be Osamu, Daisuke realized, maybe for the first time, the incredible depth of Ken’s conviction of his own guilt. Ken saw himself not only as a tyrant but as a murderer and thief. He had been offered forgiveness many times over, but was he even now ready to accept it?

The last group to arrive was Takeru’s. Unlike the other groups they had had no violent encounters that day, and without having to put their energy into battle they had been able to stay in the Digital World the longest and destroy the most Dark Towers.

“It seems a little strange,” Iori said, “that the enemy hadn’t set as many traps today.”

“Maybe they’re running low on evil Digimon,” Daisuke suggested. “We’ve been taking more down every day.”

“That could be,” Iori said, and left it at that.

“I’ve been making progress on Gennai-san’s program, but there is still a ways to go,” Koshiro told them when everyone had returned and were comfortably seated. “I plan on working into the night to get it finished.”

He also informed them of what had happened to the older Chosen that day, and the destruction of two of the enemy Digimon, which went a long way to cheer them. He also let them know that Mimi’s flight was scheduled to land at Narita airport within the hour, and that she should be back in Tokyo before nightfall.

***

Hiraga had just finished talking to the two men who he planned to send to Narita to intercept Tachikawa Mimi upon her arrival there. He was stepping out of the room when a polite cough focused his attention on an odd figure standing nearby. He recognized it as one of the Digimon that had accompanied Lilithmon to the human world, though he couldn’t remember its name. It was perhaps how a Sunday school student might envision the devil, with red skin, small horns, pointed tail, and pitchfork in hand.

“I don’t suppose I could have a moment of your time, Hiraga-san?” the thing said. In spite of its grotesque appearance, Hiraga found himself reassured by that voice, which sounded perfectly reasonable and courteous.

“I… suppose you can,” he said, surprised at how little courage it took. “I’m afraid I don’t remember your name.”

“Phelesmon,” the other answered, and bowed low, one arm across his chest while the other held the pitchfork upright.

“Um, how can I help you, Phelesmon-san?”

“Am I correct in believing that you have just engaged those two gentlemen in there to take possession of a young lady as she arrives in this country?”

Hiraga hesitated, wondering how this Digimon had heard the conversation through the closed door, but in the end he decided it couldn’t hurt to be truthful.

“Yes, I did.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Hiraga-san. There are few things more valuable than an honest man. But this business at the airport. It does not rest easy on my conscience. To take a person anywhere against her will seems most uncharitable of us.”

That put Hiraga back on his guard. It was nothing he would ever expect to hear from one of these monsters. Unsure of how to proceed in the conversation, he felt the urge to explain himself.

“Sato-san wants the Chosen Children brought here. And it’s not like they would give themselves up.”

“But surely we cannot know that unless we ask them to?” Phelesmon replied.

“Ask…?” Confusion clouded Hiraga’s face. He wondered if maybe the Digimon were making a bad joke.

“I am sincere,” Phelesmon protested. “Perfectly sincere. I have a natural talent for reasoning with people. Through the manipulation of language, the art of conversation, I can make almost any arrangement I aim to make, depending on the circumstances. I implore, you, Hiraga-san, to leave to me the care of this lady. Rest assured that before the coming night is over I shall have her walking into this very building in perfect freedom.”

Hiraga’s instinct told him to reject the ridiculous idea. But he did not do so immediately. It seemed to him that Phelesmon was someone to be trusted. The Digimon’s voice discreetly proclaimed it somehow. He had opened his mouth to dispute with Phelesmon, but what he actually said was,

“I think that would be for the best. I’ll tell the others their help is no longer needed.”

Phelesmon nodded graciously.

“I thank you for this opportunity Hiraga-san. I will now take my leave.”

He turned, walked around a corner, and out of sight, leaving Hiraga blinking in the hall and wondering why his mind was suddenly so foggy.

***

As a result of Phelesmon’s intervention, Mimi’s arrival in Tokyo was a fairly peaceful one. Miyako would have been honored to have “Mimi-oneesama” stay with the Inoue family, but with six humans and three Digimon already crammed into the apartment it had been decided that Mimi and Palmon would do any sleeping they might have time for at Sora’s apartment. It was there that the reunion between the partners took place.

As the sun began to set the twelve Chosen Children left their Digimon at their respective apartments and walked over to Rainbow Park. Mimi’s apartment had been near the small playground before the move to the United States, and it seemed as good a place as any to meet.

The meeting began with enthusiastic greetings and the usual reminiscing on old times, somewhat briefer than usual because they had already gotten together earlier in the month for the August 1 memorial. Then the sun began to sink lower, the upper sky purpled and the shadows lengthened along the ground. Conversation slowed gradually, until there was a silence. Taichi was the one to break it. His tone was solemn.

“So, what happened out there today, guys?”

There was another silence. Takeru and Iori had nothing to say. Ken looked down at his feet and was understandably silent. Daisuke would have said something if he hadn’t caught the gesture and hesitated. So it was left to Miyako to speak up, telling the others about the fort and what its inhabitants had said about the raids on Digimon communities. Once the stream of Miyako’s story trickled to a stop, Hikari voiced the question on everyone’s mind.

“Those poor Digimon. I wish we knew why they were being taken.” She shivered. “It makes it worse not knowing.”

Takeru suddenly thought of Patamon. He wished that he had brought his partner with him, regardless of who might notice. This was not a time for Chosen Child and Digimon to be separated.

“The Digimon Kaiser captured Digimon in order to enslave them,” Sora said, glancing apologetically at Ken.

“Can they do that now?” Mimi asked.

“We haven’t seen any Evil Rings,” Iori said. “The Digimon just disappear.”

“We might find them,” said Koshiro, “if I can finish Gennai-san’s program soon.”

Yamato was thinking back to the encounter with LadyDevimon.

“They’re after us too, now,” he said.

“Oh, yeah,” Miyako said. “Coatlmon said that whoever sent him wanted the Chosen Children alive.”

“But who are they?” Jou asked. “Are they human? I mean, they can get inside our heads somehow.”

“The man in my room—” Ken began, but stopped mid-sentence. _Was it really a man?_ he thought. _I sensed him before I saw him. It was the same with Wormmon. And his eyes…_

“They look human…” Takeru said.

Hikari and Ken looked up at him with almost identical questioning expressions.

“I saw him – or one of them – in my dream last night,” he explained. “He may be the same man who talked to Hikari-chan.”

“Could you see his face?” Daisuke asked.

“No.” There was a brief pause. “Maybe he is human, but he’s doing things a human shouldn’t be able to do. There’s something else…”

There was silence again. Several of the Chosen Children prepared themselves to speak, but in the end none of them did. After a while, Takeru looked up and said with conviction,

“We should get home.”

***

There were only three of them in the room, the two conspirators and their tool. Wisemon’s Book hung open in the air before him, and he read from it in a drone. Sato Katsu stood to one side, understanding the necessity of the delay but with impatience in his expression. The Dark Man was also nearby. He was smiling, as usual, though with lips pursed and just barely upturned at the corners.

The incantation at an end, the Book fell to the floor. Wisemon lifted one hand. Just above his open palm appeared a luminous red sphere, growing out of nothingness before floating on ahead of him. Once at some distance it resumed its rapid expansion, until it nearly filled one end of the room. Its color darkened from red to black, and the luminous quality faded, until it seemed that they were looking at the gaping entrance of an endless tunnel rather than a solid object.

Sato walked forward and stared intently into the dark.

“Kutouruu futagun,” he said, and his voice echoed as if in a vast space. “You know who I serve. You know what I seek. Let one of the Old Ones come forth. Clothe yourself in flesh and answer me. The time has come.”

At first it seemed as if there would be no response. But then there was a laugh in the blackness. The sound was bestial, a parody of human vocalization. Wisemon jerked his hands up at the sound, his yellow orb appearing defensively in front of him, and even Sato took a step backwards at that horrific chuckle. A voice followed in its wake, still disgusting and animalistic, but with a wicked intelligence manifest behind it.

“I will answer your call!”

A black, massive shape stepped forward out of the dark as the voice continued.

“I had a dream… a Chosen Child’s dream, and it left me with a hunger. If you will allow me into the human world, I will do your work in return.”

By now the thing had emerged from the black portal, and stood with its pair of ram’s horns almost grazing the high ceiling. The rest of the head was well-suited for the voice; it was like a goat’s head, bearded, but the long, slitted eyes glittered with reason and terrible wisdom.

“Well done, Wisemon,” the Dark Man whispered inaudibly through his widening grin.

“Very well,” Sato said, taking up a small, intricately designed knife and drawing it slowly across his wrist. “This will be our bargain, Panimon.”


	42. Camaraderie

_“And she speaks to me in a tongue I have never heard but have always known; and she tells of deathly things and of things beautiful beyond the ecstatic desires of love.” – Clark Ashton Smith, “The Muse of Hyperborea”_

Lilithmon sat upon her makeshift throne in the basement of the building Sato’s group had transformed into their human world headquarters, idly tapping the armrest with her golden claws. She was waiting impatiently for the coming night, and reflecting on the loss of her minions, Neo- and LadyDevimon. She felt no sorrow for their deaths. She did, however, feel irked. With Astamon included, she had lost half of her gang now to the Chosen Children. She had hand-picked them from the World of Darkness after the Dark Man first spoke to her about Sato Katsu. They were good fighters and consummate fiends, and what most angered her was the idea that she had chosen poorly, her favorites being beaten by brats and their pets. This called for a reaction, for vengeance. If she was going to have any fun in this world, the Chosen Children would have to be defeated first.

“Come on, friends and neighbors,” she called into the darkness around her. “Audience time!”

There was fluttering down one of the dim halls, and SkullSatamon swept in, driving the dank air before him. Behind came Baalmon, his long left arm slung back over his shoulder, and finally Phelesmon at a more stately pace. He bowed deeply, and the three demons waited for her to speak.

“You know LadyDevimon and NeoDevimon are dead?” she asked.

SkullSatamon grunted in the affirmative.

“More for us, I guess,” he said.

“As if we’d ever run out!” said Baalmon, laughing. “This city alone seems to go on forever in every direction, packed full of game. I was out all last night doing nothing but target practice.”

Lilithmon nodded, the trace of a smile on her face.

“And you, Phelesmon?” she asked.

“My soul collection has grown appreciably, my lady. I had heard about our unfortunate brethren the Devimons, but I trust that we shall learn from their mistakes and fare much better.”

“But those Chosen Children,” Lilithmon continued, “we really can’t let them get away with what they’ve done to our poor comrades. I feel like we should avenge them.”

“I’ll say!” SkullSatamon spoke up. “It’s been forever since I’ve had a good fight, and these little bastards are starting to look like they can give me one.”

“If it pleases your grace,” Phelesmon said, “I had already planned an engagement with one of these twelve later this evening.”

“We know where they live,” said Lilithmon. “I think it would be a good idea to finish things with them tonight. Once we’ve done our duty, we can relax all we want.”

“I’m up for it,” Baalmon replied, and SkullSatamon nodded his agreement emphatically.

“It sounds like an excellent idea,” said Phelesmon.

Lilithmon stood up from her throne.

“In that case, we’ll head for the elevator.”

***

Daisuke went with the Yagami siblings to the door of their apartment. He didn’t really have a reason for doing so, other than to stay a while longer in the presence of the girl he liked and the older boy he admired. They said goodbye at the door, where Agumon and Tailmon were waiting in the hall. There was no small talk or conversation as he might have hoped for, just those few words and the door shutting. As Daisuke made his way to his own apartment, he found himself wondering if they had blown him off.

“Nah,” he said softly to himself, “I’m sure it’s just them thinking about their dreams….now that it’s night and all.”

As he made his way to his own apartment, his thoughts wandered from his relations with the Yagamis to the day’s battle with Wendimon, and the two combined to remind him of his trip to New York earlier in the summer. The first Wendimon he had ever encountered was Wallace’s deranged partner, destroyed through the power of the Golden Digimentals in 2002. After that, Daisuke hadn’t seen Wallace again until the New York visit.

There still wasn’t any explanation for what had happened at that second meeting. Wallace’s suggestion that Daisuke’s depression had manifested itself as the unnatural winter was the only theory that had been put forward, and Daisuke still wondered if it was true, or if there were some other reason. He _had_ been lonely. Within a few months of the destruction of BelialVamdemon, Daisuke had begun to feel that the group might be drifting apart. They no longer had a common goal, and while their friendship was still strong, they were not the inseparable companions of the 2002 campaign.

In a way, the current crisis had reunited them. Again he was seeing – yeah, he was seeing Hikari-chan on a daily basis. He knew that she was in the Digital World, not off with her female friends – or Takeru. Daisuke had great respect for Takeru, and they were good friends, but to an extent he would always be the great rival for Hikari’s attention.

And thinking about Hikari led him naturally, though a little unwillingly, to Nat-chan. Daisuke had been sure that there was a partner for her, somewhere, and the search had been so prolonged that he had almost missed his flight home. Eventually, even he had had to admit that tracking down that one person in a city as large as New York just wasn’t possible. In the end, he had no choice but to open the Digital Gate with his D-3, and send her Digitama home.

_Where is she now?_ he wondered. _Did she hatch again? Would she remember me if I ran into her again?_ In the strange cold of empty New York, he had felt her loneliness so keenly. He had recognized it as something that could be his, and that had scared him as no enemy never had.

Stopping just in front of his door, Daisuke leaned on the railing and looked out over the space separating his building from the one Yamato lived in, trying to clear his head. There were still a few people outside, and a splash of pink drew his attention to Sora and Yamato standing at ground level with their partners. As he watched, Yamato put his arm around Sora’s shoulder. An odd look, somewhat hurt and bewildered, crossed Daisuke’s face. He turned away, and opened the door to the apartment.

***

Mimi was tired from her long flight, so she and Palmon had no objections when Sora told them she was going down to see Yamato for a while. Piyomon went with her, carried in her arms. Exiting her apartment building, she could look down the wide aisle between the adjacent buildings, a paved space diversified by carefully arranged greenery. Yamato’s building was on her left, Taichi’s on her right, and she headed for the former, from which Yamato and Gabumon were emerging.

“Hi,” Yamato began, “I wanted to say thanks again, for earlier.”

“Hey, it wasn’t a big deal,” she said, setting Piyomon down. “You would have done the same for me, or any of the others.”

“It’s a good thing you can fly,” Gabumon said to Piyomon as they moved away to give their partners space. “I think I really would have lost him.”

“Sora was so worried, even after we left,” Piyomon said, apropos of nothing.

The two Digimon stopped to watch the humans talk. In the early stages of Yamato and Sora’s romantic involvement, the partner Digimon had been excited and too inquisitive for the couple’s liking, but as the months passed they had backed off somewhat. At this point they were content simply if Sora and Yamato were content.

“You saved Jou, too,” Yamato continued.

“I guess,” Sora said. “I wanted to stay with you, though.”

Yamato opened his mouth to reply, but saw something in her expression that stopped him. She looked sadly thoughtful.

“Is everything alright?” he asked instead.

“Well…” She hesitated. “I was just thinking that, back when we said how we felt… about each other… we thought that all of the fighting was nearly over. Now things are starting up again, and it just makes me wonder… Is it okay for us to be like this? Doesn’t it make it easier for people to attack us?”

“We’ve always been friends,” Yamato said. “Since all this started four years ago, all of us have cared about each other. I used to think that I could get by just by myself, but you and the others taught me that we need friends to keep us strong.” He put his arm around her shoulder and gave a reassuring smile. “I don’t think this is any different,” he finished.

Sora’s expression brightened.

“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.” Her smile started to fade. “It’s been hard on everyone. The dreams, you know.”

It was Yamato’s turn to look uncomfortable. He remembered his own dream from the previous night, with the thing that had disguised itself as his brother. He wasn’t sure how real the whole experience had been. They still didn’t know how the nightmares worked, how much was drawn from their own insecurities and how much supplied by external forces. It would be terrible to meet something like that creature in waking reality.

“Yeah,” he said, finally. “But let’s talk about something else.”

It was an empty suggestion. Like Pandora’s Box, the topic could not be easily closed once opened. There was silence for long moments, broken at last by Sora.

“It’s not right,” she said. Some of the old fire had returned to her eyes. “We just want to live, and here come these people and these Digimon trying to hurt us. Why? Why won’t they just leave the worlds alone?”

“I don’t know,” Yamato said grimly. “But we won’t stop fighting.” He turned to his partner. “Right, Gabumon?”

“Right!” the Digimon answered.

“We won’t let anything bad happen,” Piyomon chimed in.

She had no idea how soon her statement would be tested. There was a flash from somewhere nearby, and a beam of light struck an upper story of Sora’s apartment building. Chunks of debris were blasted from the walls, falling to the ground with a clatter.

“Come on out, Chosen Children! We’re just going to finish this here!”

The group of four fixed their eyes on the place where the beam and voice had originated from. A gaunt, inhuman shape was standing in the night among the trees. The figure stepped forward until they could see it clearer and recognize it.

“SkullSatamon!”

The black and red death’s head swiveled, trying to place Yamato’s voice. It wasn’t long before SkullSatamon had located his quarry. Gabumon and Piyomon readied themselves.

“This time we’ll fight together,” Sora said, raising her Digivice.


	43. Between the Buildings

_“‘Dagon an’ Ashtoreth – Belial an’ Beelzebub – Golden Caff an’ the idols o’ Canaan an’ the Philistines – Babylonish abominations – Mene, mene, tekel, upharsin –’” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Shadow Over Innsmouth”_

SkullSatamon waited until the partner Digimon had finished evolving before he made his move. At the Child or Adult level, they were no threat to him, and he wanted to face them at their best. Once Garudamon and WereGarurumon stood before him, he leapt into action.

“Let’s see what you can do!” he yelled, leaping into the air and slicing his staff downwards at Garudamon. He struck her in the shoulder with enough force to drive her down to one knee, then landed to see WereGarurumon leaping towards him.

**“Skull Hammer!”** The sweep of the staff caught Yamato’s partner full-on. Knocked away, he slammed into the apartment building and rebounded, hitting the pavement and rolling to a stop.

“You’ll have to do better!”

Garudamon knew that it would be a bad idea to use Shadow Wing with so many residential buildings nearby. As an alternative, she lunged forward with a clawed hand. SkullSatamon brought his staff up and managed to block the attack in time.

Meanwhile, Yamato and Sora had run to the fallen WereGarurumon.

“I’m fine,” he said in response to his partner’s concerned question. “You two stay back. He’s not as strong as the last one, but—” The wolf Digimon got slowly to his feet, them charged forward again without finishing the thought.

**“Garuru Kick!”**

SkullSatamon, more or less pinned by Garudamon’s strength, could not avoid the attack, which came in low and knocked one lank leg out from beneath him. He fell, but slashed with the staff as he went down, the hooked end tearing through Garudamon’s descending hand. A mad laugh bubbled up from within his exposed black Digi-Core. From the looks of things, the evening would not disappoint him.

***

The sounds of the buildings being hit were enough to alert the Yagami siblings to the situation outside. When their parents had gotten home earlier in the day, Taichi and Hikari had finally let them know that there was another struggle in process. Whenever possible they had avoided going into detail about what exactly had happened and was still happening. Taichi and Hikari had discussed before the question of how much it would be good for the adults to know. The strange dreams weren’t brought up, and no mention was made of attacks specifically targeting the Chosen Children. The random nature of the previous night’s incidents gave credence to the idea that the evil was an impersonal one.

When the commotion began outside, the siblings and their partner Digimon were first to the door. Seeing the situation, Taichi warned his mother and father back from the door. There were the usual parental protestations, but the children were firm. The thought had crossed both their minds that the enemy would be looking for any opportunity to threaten their loved ones.

Taichi and Agumon began racing down to ground level, but Tailmon had space enough to evolve on the balcony.

**“Tailmon, Super Evolve! … Angewomon!”**

“Do your best, Angewomon!” Hikari shouted as her partner took wing and began her descent towards the fighting Digimon below.

Somewhere above, Daisuke heard her. Like the Yagamis, he was alert to the danger, and had just left his parents, sister, and a wide-eyed Caprimon behind to join the battle. Now that the Motomiyas were aware of his partner’s existence, there were full meals each night for Daisuke’s partner, and Chicomon had already used the energy of tonight’s food to evolve back up to V-mon, who now stood at Daisuke’s side.

“Hikari-chan’s already fighting! Alright! Now for XV-mon!”

Daisuke raised his Digivice, and V-mon readied himself, but before the evolution could take place a whitish blur dropped from above, flashing past Daisuke’s floor. With an exclamation, Daisuke rushed forward to the railing and looked down to follow the object. It was a Digimon of some kind, though not one he had seen before. Its cape billowed out behind it as it fell.

Angewomon was a ways ahead of the newcomer. All her attention was focused on SkullSatamon and her friends, and it looked to Daisuke as though the strange Digimon would fall short of her position. Then a long arm shot up, grasping a red club-like object. This was swung downwards, and as it descended it lengthened, losing its rigidity and becoming a segmented whip.

**“God Beating!”**

The weapon crashed down between Angewomon’s shoulders, but the pain of the attack somehow radiated through the entirety of her body. That included her wings, all eight of which went limp. The rest of her descent was straight down and much faster than she had intended. She smashed through the branches of one of the trees between the buildings and hit the ground winded. It was a painful fall, but the other Digimon’s attack had been more painful, its effects lingering long after the blow had landed.

The assailant had a much more controlled landing, floating slowly to the pavement. His weapon had retracted to its original length. He looked down at it appreciatively.

“What do you think of my Dashenbian?” he asked in a loud voice. “Dark Digimon are usually at a disadvantage against holy-types, but my whip deals more damage to holy Digimon than any other kind.”

There was activity aloft as he spoke. Hikari had started on her way down, knowing there was little she could do, but wanting to be present to support her partner. Meanwhile—

**“V-mon, Evolve! … XV-mon!”**

“Alright,” Daisuke said, “Let’s get down there!”

Taking his partner up in his arms, XV-mon leaped from the balcony as Angewomon had before him. He wasn’t the most effective flyer, but Daisuke was in a hurry, and his wings would be enough to get them down safely. Daisuke looked up to make sure there was no new enemy ready to drop on them as the first had, but saw nothing.

Baalmon heard XV-mon hit the ground behind him and turned his head about to judge the threat. XV-mon set Daisuke down and charged toward his enemy, but well before he could reach striking distance the demon’s right arm came up. There was a flash of red light in the wide sleeve, and the sound of a gunshot. XV-mon stopped in his tracks and reeled back from the power of the shot, and a second knocked him clear off his feet and onto his back.

“You must be joking,” Baalmon taunted. “An Adult-level Digimon may as well be a range target.”

“You—” Daisuke began, but stopped when a hand fell on his shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Taichi said. “Leave this to us. Agumon!”

**“Agumon, Evolve! … Greymon!”  
“Greymon, Super Evolve! … MetalGreymon!”**

Agumon had been standing just far enough away from the apartment building for his huge evolved form to keep from displacing a chunk of it. He now loomed over Baalmon. The demonic Digimon’s mouth was out of sight behind his scarf, but his eyes were smiling with the expectation of the game to come.

MetalGreymon took a single step forward and jabbed at the enemy with his Trident Arm. If Garudamon couldn’t even use Shadow Wing in such a place, Giga Destroyer was absolutely out of the question. Baalmon jumped upwards, easily dodging the thrust of the claws and landing atop the metal arm. MetalGreymon lifted it again, ready to shake the demon off, but was caught off guard when Baalmon leapt directly towards his face.

Baalmon’s cape fanned out behind him, and MetalGreymon could see that the inside of it was lined with paper talismans. A strange ripple ran through them all, and several tore free of the fabric, speeding like missiles through the air toward the hulking cyborg. In the last second it seemed that they truly were missiles, that the paper had been suddenly replaced with something bulkier.

The projectiles struck against MetalGreymon’s armored head, and exploded on impact like bombs. Taichi’s partner staggered backwards, surprised again, this time by the force of the attack.

“MetalGreymon!” Taichi cried out. The exclamation was a timely one, reminding the Digimon that he had to tread lightly here. He stopped his movement and shook his massive head to clear the ringing of the explosions.

By this time Hikari had arrived at ground level, and had stopped just short of where her brother stood. XV-mon had picked himself up from the ground, and was looking to Daisuke for instructions.

Baalmon landed on his feet. He started to say something, but was struck silent by the sudden appearance of Hikari. Remembering that there were three Digimon he had to deal with, he whirled around, Dashenbian raised defensively. His reaction had come too late, however. Angewomon was already on her feet, and just as her target turned she released her Holy Arrow. All Baalmon could do was brace for the impact.

The arrow found its mark, bursting in a flash of light, and Baalmon slid backwards along the pavement due to the force of the attack. Skidding to a stop, he had to go down on one knee. Angewomon had summoned another of her arrows of light, and was drawing back the bowstring. Baalmon knew that it wouldn’t take many of those arrows to finish him. Baalmon dived to one side – towards Daisuke.

XV-mon started forward, and Angewomon adjusted her aim, but neither was quick enough. Before Daisuke had time to react he was pinned by Baalmon’s long left arm and held up before the demon as a shield. Angewomon hesitated. The three Chosen Digimon and the two remaining Chosen Children were immobile, their eyes locked on Baalmon and his prisoner.

“Bastard!” Daisuke was trying to pry Baalmon’s arm loose with his hands, and kicking with feet that had left the ground, but could do nothing against the Digimon’s strength. “Let me go!”

“This is why you should never make friends,” Baalmon said. “In the end, caring about what happens to others will always bring you down.” He raised his right arm and fired the concealed gun. Angewomon was hit, and the second Holy Arrow dissipated as she lost hold of it. Baalmon’s gun arm swiveled, blasting XV-mon in the chest before strafing MetalGreymon with a spray of energy bullets. Daisuke’s partner fell once more.

“I guess the fun must end sometime,” Baalmon continued. “I never run out of ammunition. I won’t stop shooting until you three stop standing back up.”


	44. Inviting Conversation

_“‘To be plain, I’ve found a way to turn those wretched rats into stone statues.’” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Man of Stone”_

Like Daisuke and the Yagamis, Mimi and Palmon had quickly realized what was happening outside. Takenouchi Toshiko had gone to the door immediately after SkullSatamon’s attack had struck one of the higher floors, seen Garudamon, and even instinctively stepped outside to see if she could spot her daughter among the battling Digimon. But soon her guests had joined her on the balcony.

“It’s started already,” Mimi said. She turned to her partner. “Let’s get downstairs, Palmon.”

Toshiko reached out a hand and started to say something, but the pair were already off and running.

“Don’t worry, Takenouchi-san!”

“We’ll take care of everything!” Palmon added as she hurried to keep up with her longer-legged partner.

Left behind, Sora’s mother turned back to the battle unfolding below. She had known that something dangerous was happening again; Sora had had to explain the situation to her as an explanation for why Mimi needed a place to stay. But Toshiko had hoped that the problem would solve itself without encroaching on her family’s lives. Those hopes were shattered now, and she could only watch from above and whisper,

“Sora, everyone, please be careful.”

***

Mimi paused as she was leaving the apartment building in order to give Palmon time to catch up. Once they were side by side again, they started out towards where they could see the battle raging. They had not gone far, however, before Mimi noticed a figure standing before them, and heard a voice call out, somewhat hoarse but not unpleasant:

“Excuse me, Miss. I would like a moment of your time.”

Mimi and Palmon stopped where they were. The person was clearly a Digimon, though a humanoid one. Details were difficult to make out in the dim light between the buildings, but they could see the bat-like wings and fantastical aspect of the costume.

“Who are you?” Mimi asked. She had felt a prickling of her skin upon first seeing this strange being. It was likely that this was another enemy, but it was hard to judge from his courteous manner.

“My name is Phelesmon, and there is some very pressing business I have to discuss with you.” He began walking slowly forward. It was not a threatening advance, but Palmon didn’t like the look of him, and stepped in front of her partner.

“Don’t come closer. What do you want with Mimi?”

Phelesmon stopped in his approach before replying.

“Nothing that concerns you, I’m afraid. In fact, if you could give us a few moments alone…” He took another step forward.

“Stay back!” Palmon warned.

“You are really being very unreasonable,” he said, resuming his walk forward. “Please step aside.”

She did not.

**“Palmon, Evolve! … Togemon!”**

“If you want to be that difficult about it,” Phelesmon said to the cactus-like Digimon, “I suppose I can rise to the occasion.”

“Stay back, Mimi,” Togemon said, her expression changeless. Her partner retreated a few steps to give the two Digimon room.

“Be careful, Togemon.”

“Sound advice,” said Phelesmon, “But given too late.” A three-pronged pitchfork materialized in his hand, and with surprising dexterity he threw it like a javelin. Togemon brought her boxing gloves up into a defensive posture, and the weapon was embedded in one of them. No one had ever seen what might be concealed by the gloves, but there must have been flesh of some kind, for Togemon yelped in pain, frantically shaking the punctured glove to rid it of the pitchfork.

Phelesmon, meanwhile, was describing a semicircle around his opponent, evidently trying to reach Mimi’s position. Togemon noticed his intent and stepped to intercept him, punching with her uninjured hand. In response, Phelesmon, almost casually, lifted one of his black-gloved hands, effortlessly catching the boxing glove in his open palm. Shifting his hold, he grabbed onto the same glove with his other hand, and with only minor exertion tossed Togemon bodily into the air. His head tilted back to follow her.

**“Demon’s Shout!”**

Phelesmon’s mouth opened wide and a sound issued forth, like a long note played by a disused organ. Not only was the sound audible, it seemed to be visible as well, for a blast of violet energy rushed out of his open mouth and slammed into Togemon, who was sent flying. Mimi, who had watched the technique with astonishment, ran to follow her partner, who landed heavily in the space between Sora’s apartment building and Taichi’s.

“Are you okay, Togemon?” Mimi asked when she came across her Digimon and found her stirring but still on the ground.

“He’s strong,” Togemon answered. “He must be at the Perfect level. I’ll have to evolve.”

The girl nodded. There could be no doubt that Phelesmon was allied with the enemy. The time had come to fight again.

**“Togemon, Super Evolve! … Lilimon!”**

The fairy Digimon appeared standing upright, and Mimi stood up. It was the first time she had seen her partner as Lilimon for some while, and it was a welcome sight. Her thoughts were interrupted by Phelesmon’s voice from somewhere overhead.

“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but you have left me no choice.” The demon hovered above them. He opened a hand and the fallen pitchfork leapt into his grasp. Lilimon took to the air, hoping to draw attention away from Mimi. She brought her arms together and launched her attack.

**“Flower Cannon!”**

Phelesmon clapped a hand to his chest and again opened his mouth, assuming the attitude of an opera singer. His droning, purple voice began again, and in the face of it Lilimon’s energy blast slowed. Eventually it had stopped entirely, and as the note dragged on it faded away. Phelesmon stopped to catch his breath, while Lilimon and Mimi watched, bewildered.

“I will congratulate you,” Phelesmon said at last. “You are much stronger than you look. But now…” He lunged forward, his pitchfork extended before him. Lilimon was quick enough to get out of the way, and the demon flew straight past her before doing a midair pirouette and facing her again. “And fast as well. I should have expected nothing less from a Chosen Child’s Digimon.”

So saying, he descended to the pavement, landing only six meters or so from Mimi.

“But I’m sure we’ve all had enough of this,” he continued, addressing the human. “I only want to talk.” Again he began walking towards her, and again Lilimon went on the defensive. The Flower Cannon was deployed, but not fired. Though Phelesmon was their enemy, his dogged affability was unsettling. She wasn’t quite sure how to react.

“Stop!” was what she managed.

“If you want to talk, you can talk from there,” Mimi said.

“I find good communication grows easier as distance between conversationalists lessens,” Phelesmon answered, not slowing his pace.

**“Flower Cannon!”**

Phelesmon hurled his pitchfork again, splitting Lilimon’s attack down the middle. The various projectiles continued on their way. Lilimon was unable to evade this time, and the demon’s weapon shredded the petals concealing her hands before finding its mark. The Flower Cannon’s blast had been diffused somewhat as the pitchfork passed through it, but Phelesmon was still peppered with its light.

Lilimon doubled over from the force of Phelesmon’s attack. The pitchfork had vanished on contact, bursting into ribbons of luminous purple mist that curled about her limbs before dissipating. By the time it was gone her strength had given out, and she sank through the air to the ground, landing with a muffled thud.

Phelesmon, meanwhile, stood still, flexing his muscles experimentally. He had stopped when the shower of energy hit him, and there was now an expression of mild confusion on his face. In a few seconds, however, he shrugged.

“Well, that loosened me up a bit,” he said, his voice as calm and confident as always.

Mimi didn’t hear him. She was already at her partner’s side, asking concerned questions as she helped Lilimon to her feet.

“I’m fine, Mimi,” Lilimon said as a catch-all reply, though she did seem to be a little shaky as she stood again.

“That’s enough,” Phelesmon said. “I think it will simplify things for everyone if I take the liberty of…” He stretched out an arm and pointed one long finger at Lilimon. **“Black Statue.”**

At his words the purplish mist which had appeared in the pitchfork’s wake sprang up again around Lilimon’s ankles. Like a coiling snake it began to rise, swirling up her boots and beginning to climb her exposed shins. But the real horror of the technique came in the mist’s wake. A change was coming over every surface the luminous swirls crossed, boots and skin both. Everything in its wake was black, hard, and immobile. Petrifaction was creeping up Lilimon’s body.

“Mimi… I can’t move my feet.” Even as she spoke tatters of violet mist were becoming visible at the tips of her fingers.

“Lilimon!” Mimi turned angrily to Phelesmon. “What are you doing?”

“Just taking the situation in hand,” the demon answered, ceasing to point and walking slowly towards her. “Your friend was being disagreeable, but now I think she will leave me be for a while.”

He came to a stop within reaching distance of the pair of them. Mimi still had hold of Lilimon, who was straining but unable to make much use of her solidifying arms or any use at all of her already petrified legs.

“Mimi…”

“There,” said Phelesmon, stretching his arms wide. “Now we can talk.”


	45. Upsets

_“I am He who howls in the night;_  
_I am He who moans in the snow;_  
_I am He who hath never seen light;_  
_I am He who mounts from below.”_  
_\- H. P. Lovecraft, “Psychopompos”_

The buzzing of Tentomon’s wings competed with the rapid clicking of the keyboard in Koshiro’s bedroom. The Digimon watched as his partner worked feverishly on Gennai’s program, occasionally consulting with Gennai himself. Koshiro was still monitoring police activity, and knew that calls had been coming in from the Searea apartments for the past few minutes, but he had enough faith in his friends to trust them to handle the situation while he put the finishing touches on the program. It was perhaps their only chance of finding the enemy’s base of operations in the Digital World.

Very little remained to be done, and he was confident that he and Gennai would have the project finished within a few minutes. As soon as he had completed it he would be off to aid the others.

***

Garudamon snatched her hand back after SkullSatamon’s weapon tore into it, but slashed at him with the claws on the other. They scraped the long, blood-red bones of one of the demonic Digimon’s arms, shredding the scant clothing and drawing sparks but having no other visible effect. Whatever sacrifices might have been made to dye the bones red, the sorcery they had purchased was strong.

WereGarurumon was back in attack position, and lashed out again with a kick that made contact with SkullSatamon, but proved no more effective than the last. SkullSatamon laughed again.

“You two can’t make a dent in me!” he shouted, leaping out of the way of Garudamon’s talons. “I’m in a different league!”

Yamato and Sora watched the fight unfold from a safe distance.

“The last time a SkullSatamon appeared, it took Imperialdramon to defeat him,” Sora said, hearing their enemy’s boast.

“But do we really have to evolve to Ultimate?” Yamato asked. “We don’t have that kind of power right now! He’s at the Perfect level. There has to be a way for them to beat him.”

WereGarurumon was grappling with the same question at the moment. They could tear through SkullSatamon’s armor, but the bones that made up his body were seemingly indestructible. The wild thought came to him that they might be able to scatter the skeleton’s pieces with enough force, though he knew that he couldn’t muster attacks any stronger than the ones he had already unleashed.

From what could be seen, there were only two parts of SkullSatamon not composed of bone. There were his wings, and there was that strange, pitch-black sphere in the center of his chest. The latter looked important, and it might be vulnerable, but getting an attack in would require precision because of the ribcage guarding it.

SkullSatamon brought his staff down in an overhead swing. WereGarurumon managed to jump out of the way, leaving the weapon to splinter the pavement. SkullSatamon raised it again, and WereGarurumon saw his chance. Instead of dodging he leapt directly at his enemy.

**“Kaiser Nail!”** The claws flashed out, reaching for the black core behind the red ribs. The attack was partially successful. While there was no way of avoiding the bones entirely, there were several deep scratches made in the Dark Core’s smooth surface.

SkullSatamon let out a yell of anger and pain, abandoning his original plan of attack and lowering his weapon for defense as WereGarurumon nimbly moved out of the way. Garudamon made another lunge forward, hoping to get a hit in from behind, but SkullSatamon made a jump up and forwards, kicked off one of the apartment building’s balconies, and landed, putting both of his enemies on the same side.

“Not too bad,” he said, calm again, but with something of his carefree attitude gone. “But it will take more than that.”

“Alright then!”

WereGarurumon ran forward to make a follow-up attack, but now SkullSatamon was ready for him. The demon quickly maneuvered his staff, pointing it at the oncoming Digimon.

**“Nail Bone!”** A beam of light shot from the yellow orb at the end of the staff, striking WereGarurumon full in the chest. Immediately he was converted into light himself, shrinking, and falling to the ground as Gabumon. SkullSatamon laughed, but it was a muted sort of sound.

“I guess you won’t be giving me the fight I wanted,” he said. He sounded genuinely disappointed. “I still haven’t met the Digimon that can stand up to Nail Bone.”

Garudamon was gazing down at Yamato’s fallen partner. She knew that it would be nearly impossible to bring down the enemy by herself. Had she been able to use Shadow Wing, it might not have been a problem, but she couldn’t launch such an imprecise technique in a place where so many humans were in danger of being hurt.

SkullSatamon seemed to be in no rush. After making his attack he had not moved, but stood waiting for Garudamon to react to the situation. He turned his head briefly to get a look at the cluster of Digimon near the opposite building.

“Guess after I kill you two I can take the humans and get out of here,” he continued, fixing his sockets back on his opponent. “Baalmon won’t need any help. Wish you had been more of a challenge.” He leisurely moved his staff into position. But Garudamon was struck with sudden inspiration, and interrupted him.

“Maybe I would be a challenge in the sky,” she suggested.

SkullSatamon paused. Slowly a grin spread across his face, and he lowered his staff.

“That’s a good idea!”

But neither of them moved. SkullSatamon looked past Garudamon to where Yamato was standing with clenched fists, unable to go to his defeated partner, and Sora was waiting anxiously to see if hers would meet the same fate.

“Go on, then!” the demon said to Garudamon. “I’m not interested in those weaklings yet.”

Hesitantly, she flapped her gigantic wings and left the ground. SkullSatamon crouched low before leaping up an incredible distance to follow her. Somehow his own tattered wings were able to bear his weight, and soon the two Digimon faced each other above the roof of the apartment building.

***

MetalGreymon took a step towards Baalmon, but both of them knew that it was an empty threat. Keeping Daisuke between himself and Angewomon, the demon took aim at MetalGreymon’s face. Taichi’s partner lowered his head as the red bullets slammed into his helmet. After the initial volley, Baalmon took careful aim at one of MetalGreymon’s exposed eyes.

Just before the trigger was pulled, however, Daisuke had swung both of his legs forward and then back as hard as he could, kicking Baalmon with both feet. It was not nearly enough to free him from Baalmon’s grasp, but it did ruin the shot. The bullet missed the eye entirely, shooting a hole through a lock of the cyborg monster’s feathery hair instead.

“You intend to stay troublesome, then?” Baalmon asked. He swept a wide area before him with his right hand, firing continuously. MetalGreymon was hit in the legs, and stumbled as they gave out beneath him, while Angewomon flew upwards just in time to avoid the attack. Quickly, Baalmon released the pressure of his hold, dropping Daisuke to the ground, then kicking before the boy could regain his balance. Daisuke went sprawling, barely catching his fall with hands that the pavement tore. Baalmon aimed his gun at one of Daisuke’s legs. “Well, no one said I couldn’t maim them.”

“Daisuke!” Taichi yelled in warning.

“Angewomon!” Hikari called, her voice shrill with concern.

Her partner did not let her down.

**“Saint Air!”**

Daisuke had clenched his eyes shut to prepare himself for the coming pain, but after a second or two of quiet he opened them, wondering what had happened.

Baalmon stood still, shielding his eyes. There was a halo of light above Angewomon’s head, radiating a power that nearly blinded him and burned in his body as a pervasive pain. In fact, the sensation was not dissimilar to what Angewomon had felt after Dashenbian had stung her. His gun came up, but he was firing blindly, and none of the bullets found their target.

Daisuke struggled to his feet, stumbling away from the enemy, his head kept low to avoid possible gunshots. Angewomon’s technique harmed only dark Digimon, so Daisuke could see the way ahead, and the other two Chosen Children watched his escape and urged him on.

Above, Angewomon had readied another Holy Arrow. She called her attack and let the arrow fly. However, either Baalmon’s instincts or reflexes were enough to save him. Overcoming his discomfort, he leapt backwards, and the arrow struck the pavement just before his feet, scorching the stone. The halo above Angewomon began to fade.

XV-mon had gotten back to his feet by this time, and stepped forward to meet his approaching partner.

“Daisuke!”

“XV-mon! Are you ready to fight?”

The Digimon nodded, and with Daisuke at his side began to rush towards Baalmon.

**“X Laser!”**

The light beamed forth from XV-mon’s chest, heading towards the enemy. It struck Baalmon directly. There was nothing but his upraised arm to shield him. Daisuke let out a whoop to see the attack hit, but the sound was met only with derisive laughter that changed his expression from elation to confusion.

“Don’t celebrate yet,” Baalmon said. “I told you that an Adult-level Digimon would be no match for me. Even when you aren’t my shield you’re a burden to your friends.”

“You—”

But Daisuke’s outburst was cut off by Taichi’s voice.

“Stay back, Daisuke.”

“He’s too strong,” Hikari chimed in.

“Without Ken here to Jogress, you won’t be able to hurt him.”

“But…”

Daisuke’s hurt at his friends’ lack of faith could be seen plainly in his expression.

“We’ll handle this battle,” Taichi said, his tone too final to argue with.

“You’ll all be dead soon enough,” Baalmon said. **“Guiltish!”**

The demonic Digimon’s cape fluttered and billowed without wind to move it. The inner lining seemed alive with paper talismans, shuddering of their own volition, rolling like ripples on a pond. They detached themselves in a flurry, spraying in the direction of the three Digimon and Daisuke. The papers changed in midair. They were now knives and needles.


	46. Defeats

_“He held the lily toward me, and I took it in my hand. It had turned to stone, to the purest marble.” – Robert W. Chambers, “The Mask”_

Mimi looked at her tormentor with horrified fascination. Up close, Phelesmon looked even less human than from a distance. Now she could see the horns growing from his wide red forehead, and similar growths in his upper arms, emerging from rents in the flesh like stalagmites. The teeth in his mouth had been sharpened to points. What held her attention most were the eyes, which were yellow, protruding, with a small black pupil in their very center. It was a while before she found her voice.

“What do you want?”

“Ah, yes, where are my manners?” It didn’t seem right that such a pleasant voice could issue from such a grotesque source. “I am something of a collector, you see. Whenever I find something I would like, I make a deal with its owner, providing whatever service they require in order to get my hands on it. Usually…”

He raised a hand, covered in a glove of black rubber, a gold ring glittering on each finger. He spread it open, palm upward, and a purplish light wavered into existence above it. Mimi looked into that light, and after a few moments could see that it wasn’t shapeless. The light was made up of faces, both human and Digimon. Their expressions were painful to watch, portraits of despair. Eventually it seemed that she could hear sounds in the light; ghostly groans and wailings drifted out of it. Then the light shrunk as Phelesmon closed his hand, and vanished inside his fist.

“Souls,” he explained. “Payment for services rendered. I dare say that I always get the better deal.”

“You want my soul?” Mimi’s eyes widened, and she took a step back. Lilimon redoubled her efforts, but by now her limbs were completely petrified, and she could only turn her head and wriggle her torso.

“No, no,” Phelesmon said. “You misunderstand me. My colleagues would like to have the whole of you. That’s the real reason I’m here.” He hurried on. “Rest assured, I would never take you anywhere against your will, but with the situation as it stands perhaps I can persuade you to come for some favor in return.”

“You…” Lilimon spoke up. “You don’t mean—?”

“Black Statue will eventually consume your friend,” Phelesmon told Mimi. “However, it is within my power to halt or even reverse the process… for the proper price.”

Mimi said nothing at first. Her expression was still frightened, but growing indignant.

Phelesmon shrugged.

“But then,” he said, “Perhaps you would prefer something else.” He placed a hand upon Lilimon’s shoulder, and the moment he touched her, the creeping purple mists more than doubled their speed. Soon almost her entire body was stone, and the contagion began to work its way up her neck.

“Stop!” Mimi cried.

“As you wish.”

Phelesmon removed his hand from Lilimon’s stony shoulder. The mist slowed considerably, but did not stop entirely.

“I won’t forgive you,” Mimi said. Her hands were clenched and she was shaking with her anger.

“And I will have to live with that knowledge,” Phelesmon said. His tone was grave, but there was mockery behind it.

“If I go with you, you’ll leave Lilimon alone?”

“If that is what you truly wish.”

Lilimon couldn’t listen and remain quiet.

“Don’t, Mimi! Don’t go with him!”

Mimi closed her eyes and shook her head sadly.

“It’s okay, Lilimon. I know you and the others will find me.”

“But what if he’s lying?” Lilimon pleaded. “What if—?”

Signs of annoyance flashed over Phelesmon’s face. He raised a hand, and the petrification process quickened again. Lilimon felt the stone rise up to her chin, and quickly shut her mouth lest it spread down her throat and coat her insides. Phelesmon lowered his hand and the process stopped entirely, but not before his opponent’s mouth was covered in black stone, and she was rendered mute.

“Now,” he said, turning once more to Mimi. “What do you wish for? What must I do for you to accompany me?”

“I want you to let Lilimon go,” she answered. “Then I’ll come with you.”

“But if I were to simply let her go now, she would doubtless attack me again. Perhaps I should leave her in her current state until the two of us are safely away.”

Mimi hesitated. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth. But another look at her partner resigned her.

“All right.”

Phelesmon offered his hand, but Mimi did not take it. She refused even to look at him. Phelesmon allowed himself a surreptitious smile, then placed his hand against Mimi’s back and guided her forward. Behind them, tears flowed from Lilimon’s dark eyes, dripping down from her chin like raindrops falling from a beautiful gargoyle.

***

Garudamon propelled herself forward, the talons on her scaly feet attempting to close on SkullSatamon, but he made a deft dodge, controlling his aerial movement without any motion of his wings.

“Guess you won’t be any tougher up here,” he called. “Let’s just end this crap.” He pointed his staff. **“Nail Bone!”**

Had SkullSatamon not made his little speech, the battle might have been over for Garudamon, and of course, for Yamato and Sora, who knelt beside Gabumon’s motionless body. But the enemy’s words had given her a warning of what was to come, and she was just able to shove herself out of the line of fire with a flap of her great wings.

SkullSatamon hadn’t expected to miss, but with his reflexes it wouldn’t be long before he had her in his sights again. As he adjusted his aim, however, Garudamon lost altitude, falling back towards the world below. The staff dipped, but even as she fell Garudamon was launching her attack.

**“Shadow Wing!”**

Her speeding flames soared upward, engulfing SkullSatamon’s entire form. He let out a hoarse yell and fired Nail Bone blindly. The beam was off somewhat, but did clip one of Garudamon’s wings, burning the feathers and speeding her descent. As she touched down once more on the pavement, she looked up through her pain to see what her opponent would do.

However, SkullSatamon wasn’t moving. WereGarurumon’s rents in the dark core had been joined by a network of cracks, and out from them welled plumes of pitch-black smoke. The demon’s grip on the staff slowly loosened, and it fell, clattering to the roof of Yamato’s apartment building. He saw Garudamon looking up at him, and gave a mindless chuckle.

“I was careless,” he said, and dived towards her, laughing loudly, one fist out before him.

**“Shadow Wing!”**

SkullSatamon was swallowed up by her attack, which continued upwards, into the darkness of the night sky. It left nothing in its wake.

***

XV-mon turned as Baalmon’s projectiles approached and threw his arms around Daisuke. He was able to shield his partner, and the blades tore into his back. MetalGreymon also took his share of the attack, the knives embedding themselves in the fleshy parts of his body.

Of the demon’s targets only Angewomon managed to emerge from it unscathed. Her eight wings folded in front of her, creating a barrier of pink light which dissolved the transformed talismans as they hit it.

Another light had announced XV-mon’s devolution to V-mon, who now lay limply, half unconscious, supported by his partner. Somewhere behind them, MetalGreymon slumped forward. He was not yet at the point of losing his current form, but the repeated attacks had taken their toll, and his legs were struggling to support him.

Baalmon’s attention was focused on Angewomon.

“Think you’re clever, do you?” He said, irritated. “None of you know when to quit.” His arm flew back over his head, then swung forward as Dashenbian lengthened, trailing venomous darkness. “I’ll whip the flesh from you!”

Angewomon would not have time to avoid that swing. Baalmon had ceased to consider Daisuke and Taichi’s partners a threat. There was only this hated angel left to stand up to him. Dashenbian, the ultimate weapon against holy Digimon, would have no trouble with any shield she created. He had only to knock her out of the sky and keep lashing until there was nothing left.

When something rushed in from the side, tangling itself in the whip, it took Baalmon a moment to snap out of his daydream and realize what had happened. It was MetalGreymon’s Trident Arm, extended at the end of its cable, which had ruined his plan. The metallic claw fell to the earth, pinning the whip beneath it. Baalmon tugged at it, trying to ready his weapon for another strike.

But already Angewomon was flying forward, landing just ahead of him, bringing her arms up before her, palms together. Then she spread them wide, and a cruciform shape of searing light took form.

**“Heaven’s Charm!”**

Baalmon remembered his gun too late to make any use of it. The light advanced inexorably. It enveloped Baalmon and stopped, hovering in place until he had burned away entirely. Writhing talismans detached themselves from his cape, but could not escape, and disintegrated in the glare.

Finally the light faded. Nothing was left of Baalmon or Dashenbian. MetalGreymon finally relaxed, devolving to Agumon, and Angewomon reverted as well to Tailmon.

“Taichi! Hikari-chan!”

Sora was calling, coming over with Piyomon in her arms. Yamato followed behind her at a slower pace, helping Gabumon along. In another minute, five Chosen Children and their partners were gathered, most of them smiling with relief to see their friends safe and the enemy defeated. None of the others noticed how subdued Daisuke was as he sat with the recovering V-mon.


	47. Sound and Fury

_“The darkness always teemed with unexplained sound – and yet he sometimes shook with fear lest the noises he heard should subside and allow him to hear certain other fainter noises which he suspected were lurking behind them.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Dreams in the Witch-House”_

After what seemed an eternity, the final barrier gave way, and Gennai’s program was complete. Though the effort had been purely mental, Koshiro felt exhausted. But he knew that there wasn’t time to relax.

_Go and help the others,_ Gennai told him. _I’ll be watching for the appearance of more Dark Towers._

“Mom, Dad, I’m going out!” he called.

His parents, who were aware of the situation, let him go, but not without many reiterations as to how careful he should be. Soon Koshiro and Tentomon had emerged from the apartment building, and with the extra space came evolution.

The two of them were quickly airborne and approaching the apartment complex, and were in time to see the flare of the last Shadow Wing. The situation became clearer as they approached.

Police vehicles had begun to arrive, though their drivers and passengers had wisely kept their distance during the duration of the battle. Having monitored police activity, Koshiro knew that they were instructed not to engage Digimon unless absolutely necessary. If there was a battle between two monsters, they would merely set up a perimeter and wait for things to play out.

Taichi’s apartment building was the closest of the three to Kabuterimon’s position. Stairs led up from the street to the plaza on which the three buildings fronted, and Koshiro was surprised to see a pair of figures making their way down those stairs. In a moment the identity of at least one of the figures became clear.

“Kabuterimon, isn’t that Mimi-san down there?”

“But who is that with her?”

Not her partner. Something was wrong. Kabuterimon descended until he was hovering just in front of the two.

“Koshiro-kun!” Mimi cried out, glad to see him. Phelesmon, on the other hand, was irritated. With Lilimon incapacitated and Mimi relatively docile, he had considered the night’s work already a success. To have this new nuisance appear at the last moment was galling.

“What inopportune timing,” he said. “If you wouldn’t mind moving out of the way, I have somewhere to escort this young lady.”

Koshiro had had a passing interest in the occult, and he knew a demonic Digimon when he saw one. This would be another agent of the enemy.

“Where’s Palmon?” he asked, raising his voice over his partner’s buzzing wings. Mimi’s expression darkened at the question.

“Lilimon is…”

“She is indisposed,” Phelesmon interrupted. “Now please move or you will find yourselves likewise.”

He had stepped forward, ahead of Mimi.

“Kabuterimon, let me down,” Koshiro said softly.

His partner landed, crouching on the steps as Koshiro made his way to the ground. Phelesmon looked at the boy and gave a winning smile.

“Of course,” he said, “If you would like to come with us, you need only say so. Forgive me for being short with you, but it has been a long night.”

“No,” Koshiro said, his voice firm. “I think you had better go alone.”

“I cannot do so in good faith,” said Phelesmon. “I have made a bargain which must be upheld at all costs. Now, if you will neither move nor accompany, I think we have nothing left to talk about.”

The demon began striding down the steps towards Koshiro and Kabuterimon.

**“Kabuterimon, Super Evolve! … AtlurKabuterimon!”**

Phelesmon stopped as the evolution took place. Placing his arms behind his back and his feet widely apart, he opened his mouth to its full extent and let loose with his powerful voice. AtlurKabuterimon stumbled back as the waves of purple sound struck him, scrabbling at the steps to keep from falling backward.

Phelesmon next rose into the air, summoning his pitchfork in one hand. He pointed the weapon at his opponent, but did not throw it.

**“Black Statue!”**

A twisting stream of mist emerged from the trident and sped down towards AtlurKabuterimon. It struck one of his outstretched foreclaws and widened, engulfing the limb and leaving black stone in place of red exoskeleton.

Koshiro was running up the stairs as Mimi came down to meet him, and Phelesmon turned from the Digimon to the humans he was responsible for bringing back to headquarters with him.

“And so now you are reunited,” he said as the two Chosen Children reached each other. They looked up at him, their expressions determined. “But how do you envision the rest of the evening to go? Your actions have been valiant but uncalled for.”

He spread his arms.

“Come along, now. We have so much to look forward to.”

**“Horn Buster!”**

Phelesmon was blasted from behind. His pitchfork flew from his grasp and disintegrated. Though the lower parts of AtlurKabuterimon’s body were petrified, he had had enough time before his head was immobilized to launch his attack. Now that Horn Buster had found its target, the black stone encasing him was already growing brittle, cracking and flaking as he flexed his muscles.

“You—!”

Steam was rising from Phelesmon as he spun around. His veneer of amiability was gone. The yellow eyes bulged outward, and the pointed teeth gnashed together. “Why won’t anyone cooperate! **Demon’s Shout!”** The last word didn’t end, but was instead drawn out, buffeting AtlurKabuterimon with an unending stream of violet-tinted sound.

The weight of the attack was suffocating. AtlurKabuterimon was pressed against the pavement beneath him, the pressure sending massive cracks up and down the stairs as he tried in vain to push back against the onrushing roar. The sound only grew louder, filling his head and emptying his mind, crushing his sanity as it would soon crush his carapace.

Higher on the stairs, the Chosen Children watched. Their hands covered their ears. Koshiro was shouting his partner’s name, but his voice was lost completely in the noise. Mimi glanced up at Phelesmon, wondering how his lungs didn’t burst, and it was while looking up that she saw their salvation.

A shape of pink and green darted into sight. Just as Horn Buster had put an end to the effects of Phelesmon’s magic on AtlurKabuterimon, it had weakened Lilimon’s stone casing to the point where she could break free and rejoin the battle. She brought her arms together in front of her, and fired the Flower Cannon into Phelesmon’s back at close range.

The demon’s head was thrown back by the force of the blast, and the intensity of the vapors he spewed faded as his shout became one of pain. There was a gaping hole in his back. The disintegration of his body began there, and spread out towards his extremities. Soon the night was once again quiet.

***

Cloaked in the darkness above Sora’s apartment building, Lilithmon had watched the various battles play out. Things had begun deceptively well. Baalmon’s surprise attack was ingenious, and she had paid especial attention during the time he had been using the one boy as a shield. Phelesmon’s strategy of isolating his target was also a joy to watch, and Lilithmon had smiled seeing his methodical attacks and imagining his subtle cruelty.

Then, in the space of a few minutes, everything fell to pieces. The tables turned, and her three remaining followers had been destroyed in rapid succession. It was over now. If Lilithmon had been in an observant state of mind she could have taken note of AtlurKabuterimon reverting to Tentomon, his partner’s struggles to bring the Digimon back to his senses, the group of five Chosen Children and their partners moving to investigate the noise from the steps. But Lilithmon was not in an observant state of mind.

She was angry. No, she was beyond angry. Her hand-picked minions had failed, and that infuriated her. For a while she could do little more than stand with her fists clenched and her face, beautiful when placid, contorted into grotesque expressions of rage. A sickly light began to emanate from her body, spilling across the rooftop like poisonous gas. In a moment, she found the strength to fling herself off the building and dive down toward where her enemies were gathered at the top of the steps.

“Look up, Chosen Children!” she shouted at them. “A goddess stands before you!”

Startled, they obeyed. Lilithmon was stationary several meters above them, limned in gray light.

“You have killed a few of my subordinates, but can you fare so well against me?”

“Another one!?” Yamato exclaimed.

With the exception of Lilimon, all of the Chosen Digimon had reverted to their normal states, so Mimi’s partner was alone when she rose to meet this new threat.

**“Flower Cannon!”**

Lilithmon made no attempt to dodge. A fierce smile flashed across her face as she waved her hand in front of her. The passing hand left a trail of blackness behind it, and Lilimon’s attack shot directly towards it, then through it, drawing a gasp from the assembled Chosen – because although the projectile continued on, it did not strike Lilithmon, but grew gradually smaller with distance as if the black smudge in the air were a tear in the world, just a window on an endless void. In another moment the rent in reality had closed, leaving Lilithmon untouched.

Her hand came up again, and they could see her holding something like a dark, roiling cloud. This she threw as hard as she could in Lilimon’s direction, and as it went forward it expanded rapidly. Lilimon, still somewhat shocked at the ineffectiveness of her attack, was too late in trying to evade it. The projectile slammed into her, engulfed her, and exploded with a sound like thunder. Mimi’s partner was Palmon again by the time she hit the ground.

Lilithmon smiled again, more serenely this time. Her peace of mind was coming back to her. Though her soldiers had been destroyed, there was only their own misjudgment to blame. She was an Ultimate-level Digimon, and she, at least, would never be defeated by these brats. Her initial rage gradually subsided. She looked down at the Chosen Children, relishing their expressions. They knew that with their partners tired out from long, difficult fights, they had no chance of matching her power.

If she so wished she could wipe all fourteen of the insects before her from the face of the earth in an instant. That had been her original plan when she left the rooftop; her employers wanted the Chosen Children alive, but no one made her look like a fool and lived to tell about it. Now a new idea was taking shape in her mind. She had a unique opportunity. Blasting them where they stood would not be nearly as satisfying as taking her time with them, in a place that followed her rules. The idea was so delightful that she could hardly keep from laughing. When she was quite certain she would be able to contain herself, she spoke.


	48. Threats

_"They lumber through the night_  
_With their elephantine tread;_  
_I shudder in affright_  
_As I cower in my bed._  
_They lift colossal wings_  
_On the high gambrel roofs_  
_Which tremble to the trample_  
_Of their mastadonic hoofs."_  
\- Robert E. Howard, “Out of the Old Land” 

“You’ve done well, Chosen Children. I should have known my servants had no chance.”

“Who are you?” Taichi asked.

“What are you doing in this world?” added Yamato.

“Haven’t you heard what we’ve been doing?” she replied with a smile. “We came to this world to kill and torture as many humans as we could. As for who I am, my name is Lilithmon. I am the queen of darkness, and your lives are mine for the taking, children.”

“Not while we’re here,” Piyomon piped up. **“Magical Fire!”**

**“Baby Flame!”**

**“Petit Fire!”**

The green, orange, and blue flames converged on Lilithmon, but fizzled out on contact with her chest and torso, leaving no mark behind. The demoness closed her eyes and gave a low moan as if just coming in from the cold. She followed it with a brief titter.

“That tickled,” she said, opening her eyes and looking down at them again. “You’re all so cute. I could just _eat you up._ ” She spread her arms. **“Darkness Love…”**

A wave of grayness swept out of the sky, flowing over the Chosen Children and their partners. Its effect on the humans was difficult to describe. It was almost a pleasing sensation, but that just made it more disgusting. In that moment they felt strangely exposed, somehow indecent. The Digimon, on the other hand, simply devolved, returning to their Baby II forms and Plotmon without any other effect. Lilithmon laughed again.

“Save your energy for later,” she said. “I’m going home to set up a game for you.”

“A game!?” Daisuke growled. Logically there was nothing they could do at the moment, but the enemy’s attitude angered him, and he wanted to let her know.

“Maybe we don’t want to play,” Sora said grimly.

“You’ll have to, if you want the violence to stop,” Lilithmon retorted. “If you don’t come, we’ll just keep killing until you change your mind.”

When they didn’t immediately reply, she continued.

“Tomorrow night I’ll send a messenger who will lead you to me. I hope you’ll come… We’ll have so much fun.”

So saying, she ascended, soon disappearing from sight as she passed over the apartment building.

***

The Chosen Children and their partners were silent for a minute or so. When it became clear that the enemy was gone, there was quiet discussion as they took stock of the situation. For most of the Digimon, the damage was nothing they hadn’t taken before. With their devolution the marks of violence had already begun to fade, leaving them hungry and tired.

Koshiro was worried about Mochimon, however. When he did manage to speak, the little pink Digimon was almost incoherent, as though talking in his sleep. Phelesmon’s final attack had taken a mental as well as physical toll. But Koshiro remained patient, and eventually there were signs of his partner coming back to his full senses.

“Thanks for showing up,” Taichi said, resting a hand on Koshiro’s shoulder. “I hope Mochimon can pull out of this.”

“I think he will,” Koshiro replied. “There doesn’t seem to be any permanent damage… at least, that’s what I hope.” There was a pause. “I would have been here sooner, but I finished Gennai-san’s program.”

“Now we’ll know where the enemy is?” Daisuke asked. He had caught the last part of the conversation, and leaned forward eagerly. Since the end of the battle he had been feeling morose over his inability to have been of much use. Taking the offensive would make him feel much better.

“Well,” Koshiro said, “If the enemy continues to bring Dark Towers into the Digital World, we should be able to at least narrow their location down to a reasonable area for you to search. If all goes well, we should be ready to find the enemy base by some time tomorrow.”

“Alright! We should let the others know.”

“I’ll contact them through the D-Terminal once Mochimon is better. For now, it might be best if we started resting up for the coming battles.”

“Speaking of which,” Sora said, “What are we going to do about that Digimon from just now?”

“Can we really follow her messenger, knowing that it’s a trap?” Yamato asked.

“Doesn’t seem like we have a choice,” Taichi answered. “We’ll just have to be very careful. Maybe by that time Daisuke and the rest will have been able to defeat the enemies in the Digital World, and we can beat the rest in the human world.”

“I’ll look Lilithmon up on the Digimon Analyzer when I get home,” Koshiro told the others. “Maybe it can help us come up with some sort of plan to fight her.”

Koshiro left once his partner was again fully lucid, though still weak.

“If Lilithmon was telling the truth,” he told the others before he went, “then we won’t have to worry about further attacks on us personally until tomorrow night. She may have been lying, but hopefully we’ll have the entire night to rest.”

They all knew that it was an empty hope. If they were not being attacked physically, they would still be attacked beyond the wall of sleep, no matter how much they pretended that they had just a normal, peaceful night to look forward to. In a few more minutes they had split up again, walking back to their respective apartments and carrying their respective partners. Their families would be wanting to know that they were alright.

Sora led Mimi back into the center building, and Yamato walked back into his own. Daisuke went up the elevator with the Yagami siblings, but this time he did not accompany them to their door. Taichi gave Daisuke a reassuring pat on the back as they parted ways, but said nothing. Hikari neither said nor did anything, little more than her brother’s shadow. Soon the doors of the apartments were all closed again.

***

Koshiro made sure Mochimon was comfortable on the bed before he checked the Digimon Analyzer. He plugged in his Digivice and called up the most recent Digimon he had seen.

_LILITHMON_  
_Ultimate Level_  
_Demon Lord Digimon_  
_Special Attack: Phantom Pain, Nazar Nail_

Koshiro read it, then leaned back heavily in his chair. He ran his fingers through his hair and thought of what this might mean. So the enemy did have Ultimate-level Digimon among their ranks. It was no wonder Lilimon and the others were defeated so easily. The Digimon’s type, Demon Lord, caught his attention as well. There were only two other Digimon the Chosen Children had ever encountered with that type: Demon and BelialVamdemon, two dark Digimon so powerful that they could not be defeated through normal means.

Koshiro leaned forward again and began typing. If he and the others were to have any hope of defeating this Lilithmon, they would need the ability to evolve to Ultimate. In 2002, Qinglongmon had been able to provide the energy needed for Agumon to Warp Evolve, and as the balance of the Digital World righted itself in the wake of BelialVamdemon’s destruction, both Agumon and Gabumon had regained the ability to reach the Ultimate level. Soon Koshiro was back in the chat with Gennai.

_Koshiro: Gennai-san, an Ultimate-level Digimon has appeared in the human world. Are Agumon and Gabumon still able to Warp Evolve?_

_Gennai: I am not sure, with the amount of dark energy in the Digital World rising. I will contact the Holy Beasts and see if they can help. I’ll also be watching for the enemy to make another move, so that we can track them down._

_Koshiro: We’re counting on you, Gennai-san. This Ultimate Digimon has challenged us to a battle tomorrow night, so we will need WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon by then._

_Gennai: I’ll be working on it. For now you should stop worrying about everything and get to bed._

Koshiro didn’t respond for a few moments. He was debating whether to mention the futility of doing so, but in the end all he put was, _I will_ , before signing out of the chat. He closed the lid of the laptop, but did not shut it down. If the night became sleepless, he might need it to while the hours away. It’s what he found himself hoping for.

***

Anzu said goodbye to her friends when still some distance away from her apartment building. She really didn’t mind walking home by herself. It was a new tradition for her this summer, and she enjoyed taking her time as the city’s activity wound down, reflecting on the events of the day as she walked. She had maybe stayed out a little late tonight, but that wasn’t a big deal on summer break. She didn’t know what her parents were so worked up about. Now that she was a middle-school student, she deserved some freedoms.

She was actually less eager to get home than usual. The past few nights had been a little restless for her. She had weird dreams. Today the subject had come up among herself and her friends, who said they also had been having trouble sleeping. Chinatsu had made a bad joke about the possibility of some sort of “nightmare sickness” going around, and they had spent an hour or so recounting to each other the dreams they could remember.

Maybe it was thinking about that conversation, but Anzu soon found herself picking up her pace. Her parents would be worried, and she’d rather not have to put up with them much tonight. If she didn’t want to sleep immediately she didn’t have to.

She had spent her first week or so of August evenings finding as many new and interesting ways of getting home as she could, and by now knew what shortcuts to take to cut back on her time. She was more than halfway down the last alley when it happened. Something slid down from above, its shapeless bulk brushing against the sides of the two buildings that framed the alleyway. The light from the main thoroughfare was behind it, so no details could be seen, but as it reached the pavement there was a thud and a loud clicking sound.

Initially Anzu was frozen. Her brain had trouble processing what she was seeing. It took her a moment to realize that the thing was still moving, and that it was therefore alive. It seemed to be moving away from her, and she had hopes of escaping its notice. But something was wrong. The object really was growing smaller, but the surroundings showed her that it was actually moving toward her. She couldn’t tell what it was, but she could see now that it had a form of some kind, with arms and legs.

That realization broke her paralysis, and she began stumbling backwards, wanting to get away but unwilling to turn her back on it lest it should pounce when she was no longer looking. They passed that way through the darkest part of the alley, and as the light grew, she could make out more details. It came capering forward, feet clicking as they kicked the concrete. The proportions of the thing were all wrong for a human, and she could see shrinking wings disappearing behind the main body. It occurred to her then that she didn’t want to see it any clearer.

When the thing laughed, her composure broke entirely and she turned to run out of the alleyway. The throaty, liquid sound continued behind her, then suddenly stopped as she felt misshapen fingers fasten themselves in her hair. The other appendage grabbed her arm and spun her roughly around. She hit the pavement with the breath knocked out of her. When she saw the goatish face leaning over her, she opened her mouth to scream, but the furry palm clamped down on her mouth before she could.


	49. Background

_“All memories that could be eradicated were eradicated, so that in most cases only a dream-shadowed blank stretched back to the time of the first exchange. Some minds recalled more than others, and the chance joining of memories had at rare times brought hints of the forbidden past to future ages.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Shadow Out of Time”_

Hiraga wasn’t sure what to expect when the elevator doors opened. He had no way of knowing from the hazy details getting out to the public how many Digimon had been lost on the expedition, or how many hostages the survivors might return with. He was certainly not expecting to see the elevator empty except for the female creature in charge of the others.

Lilithmon had subdued her temper over the journey home. The idea that had struck her in Odaiba was becoming clearer, and she was so excited to put things in motion that she had almost danced through the night’s blackness. As always, no one had seen her return to the building. Hiraga always worried on that account, unaware of her ability to cloak herself in darkness. She walked into the room with a regal air about her, only deigning to look at the human after a few moments had passed in silence.

“What happened?” Hiraga eventually asked.

“Oh… nothing very surprising,” Lilithmon replied, waving a dismissive hand. “The rest of those stooges I brought are gone. But all that was just preparation.”

“I see,” Hiraga said, concealing the fact that he didn’t believe it. To play along, he asked, “What will you do next?”

“Well, I now have a good feel for the meager capabilities of the Chosen Children, and will be able to defeat them easily when they arrive tomorrow evening.”

“Arrive? You – you mean they know where we are?”

“Well, no, not yet. I don’t want them getting here before everything is ready.”

“I’m not sure my client would—” Hiraga began, but she interrupted him.

“He’ll be fine with it, I’m sure. You can ask if you like, but I have to get busy.” She stepped closer to him, and he had the courage not to step back. “Now, you don’t have a problem with my taking over the subbasement, Hiraga-chan?” She gave a girlish tilt of her head.

Hiraga was too flustered to reply immediately. It wasn’t until she lifted her left hand and began caressing his arm that he found the stability of mind to back off a few paces. He wasn’t entirely comfortable with the feelings this monster aroused in him.

“I will ask Sato-san,” he said stiffly. “You can do what you want unless he objects to it.”

“Then I’ll be off,” she replied with a knowing smile. Suiting word to action, she turned and headed through one of the doors leading deeper into the core of the building. Hiraga turned to leave, but Lilithmon poked her head out of the doorway to ask a last question. “By the way, where is that little kitty we brought with us?”

“She’s out exploring again, I guess,” the mercenary answered.

“Well when she gets back send her to me. I have a job for her.”

***

Hiraga wasn’t sure how he felt as he made his way to the room from which he would contact his employer. The monotony of what had become his daily routine combined with the surreal circumstances had a numbing effect. He wasn’t quite sure what to think of it all. Thinking back on the conversation with Lilithmon, he almost had to laugh. He had only been referred to with “chan” one other time in his adult life, and the man who had made the jibe ended up with a knifed jugular.

There was no reason he could see to be afraid of Lilithmon. She wasn’t even as tall as he was, and he didn’t find the gold claws on her right hand very threatening, since he hadn’t yet seen them in action. Then again, he was learning not to trust first impressions. The children he had been stalking on Sato’s orders seemed harmless enough, but they were apparently a match for monstrosities such as that skeletal giant. Life had become so strange recently.

Hiraga opened the connection between his own location and Sato’s headquarters in the Digital World, but it was some time before he got a response. Finally the video came online and he could see Sato staring out of the screen at him.

“What is it? I’m busy at the moment.”

“Only the lead Digimon is still alive,” Hiraga said.

“I know,” Sato snapped. “We can monitor their signals from here. I hope you have something else to tell me.”

“I guess she’s planning now to invite the kids to come here. Apparently she’s setting a trap for them. I wanted to make sure that was alright with you before letting her go through with it.”

After a moment’s thought, Sato asked, “What is she doing, exactly?”

“Something to do with the subbasement. I didn’t ask for details.”

Sato nodded.

“I think I know what she has in mind,” he said. “If she’s taking time to prepare everything, I have faith in her abilities. I would prefer, however, that the Chosen Children did not know the extent of our headquarters in the human world. My associates will know of ways into the building other than the ones you’ve been using. Make sure to keep your guests out of the inhabited parts of the base.” Sato paused and leaned towards the screen. “Now I am going to sleep. Contact the Dark Man if you have anything to report.”

The screen went black. Hiraga shrugged at the sudden dismissal, and walked out of the room.

***

Gennai was standing atop a hill, watching the eastern sky as it slowly clouded over and lightning flashed in the distance. He stood motionless for many minutes, listening to the soft rumble of the thunder. Finally he could sense movement. Something gigantic was stirring behind the curtain of clouds, and he bowed his head in preparation to meet again with Qinglongmon. A soft, diffuse light began to glow in the sky, and attached itself to each tree, stone, and blade of grass.

“So it has come again to this, and in less than a year’s time,” the Digimon said, the clouds parting to reveal him. Gennai bowed more deeply before speaking.

“Yes, I am afraid it cannot be helped. The Chosen Children need your power, if you can spare it.”

“We can, for now, but our powers wane daily. The number of Dark Towers continues to grow, but the breaking of the seals is more disturbing. Too late, I have begun to realize that building the towers of darkness was never our enemies’ primary goal. No human, and very few Digimon, would know of the seals’ existence. Something in the World of Darkness is directing these attacks. I am certain of it.”

Gennai lifted up his gaze, looking directly at the Holy Beast.

“I will work to find out who is behind all this. The Chosen Children are working hard to keep things under control, but they will need your help.”

Qinglongmon looked down at Gennai for some moments in silence.

“But there is more on your mind, is there not?” the god asked.

“It is not my place,” Gennai answered.

“No, you are within your bounds. Speak freely.”

Gennai took a deep breath before replying.

“Do you remember your partner?”

Resisting the urge to avert his eyes, Gennai watched the Digimon’s face closely as he asked the question. Qinglongmon showed no sign of surprise or irritation. His expression changed very little, but his four eyes grew distant and clouded. When he responded, there was a difference in his voice.

“My partner… You knew then.”

“I had guessed,” Gennai said. “I knew that the original Chosen Children’s Digimon, if they had survived their struggle, would have grown immensely powerful, even become gods, in the millennia since their partners returned to the human world. I found evidence of it some time ago, but did not want to bring it up.”

Qinglongmon closed his eyes.

“Our memories are long, Gennai. But we are so very old. I can recall my partner only dimly. I cannot call up all the details of his face in my mind’s eye, or even remember his name. I do not know what became of him, or the others, and I doubt that my fellow Holy Beasts have any more idea than I do.”

There was another long pause. The wind whispered in the grass and the thunder became almost inaudible, as if it were coming from the very ends of the universe.

“Why do you ask me this?” Qinglongmon said.

“I have been searching for any clue that might reveal to us the source of this evil,” Gennai said. “I have been examining the past, wondering if it might conceal the answer, and the mystery of the first Chosen Children suggested itself. Why did they never return? Where are they now?” Another pause. “Perhaps it is nothing.”

“Continue your investigations, Gennai. I will confer with the others. By morning, the Chosen Children will be able to achieve the Ultimate level once more.”

Gennai bowed a last time, and while he waited the luminescence faded. When next he looked up the clouds were still again, and the night devoid of lightning and thunder.

As Gennai made his way home, he was thinking about memory, and its unreliability. His own long life stretched out behind him, thousands of years by the Digital World’s no longer warped timescale. Very few events stood out to him.

He and his fellow Agents had been created, and had set in motion the events which would eventually lead to the destruction of Apocalymon. The only survivor of the group, he had remained in hiding for long, empty years, waiting for the time when the Chosen Children would be gathered and called to right the situation. For the most part, his entire life was an interminable gray blur, watching over the Digimon he had saved, programming, and building robots like his pet fish to while the centuries away.

He thought also of the Chosen Children and their memories. As young children, the first eight of them had witnessed beings from another world, and forgotten about it almost entirely within the span of a few years. Under the influence of the Dark Seed, Ichijouji Ken had lost nearly all of his own past, and was still far from having recovered what he had lost.

Finally, he thought of the unknown enemy. What did it remember? How long had it been waiting, this Thing in the dark outside the world? Arriving home, his reverie was interrupted by a notification that the Dark Towers had begun to appear again. Eagerly, he sat down at his computer, and began to trace the energies that summoned them.


	50. Killing Ground

_“And, coincidently, I have been haunted by an equally formless dread, an apprehension as of some bygone but still imminent doom.” – Clark Ashton Smith, “The Chain of Aforgomon”_

Takeru seemed to awaken in a panic. Why was he sleeping? The others needed him. He was lying in bed, with the sheet over his face, a way he never slept. He didn’t feel Patamon at his side, and that worried him. His intention was to tear the sheet off and get up, but he found to his horror that he was unable to move. But he had to get up – no; he was standing up, not in bed at all. The thing draped over him was too heavy to be a bed sheet.

He didn’t have time for this. His friends and brother were in battle again, and he had to get there. He couldn’t stand the thought of letting them down. Again he tried to move his arms, but was unable to budge them. They were stiff at his sides. He couldn’t take a step, or open his mouth to speak. He couldn’t close his eyes.

Quickly and silently the sheet was pulled off him, as though a sculptor was unveiling his latest work. Another sheet lay still before him, apparently concealing a number of objects about his size. The sheet itself was gigantic, stretching away on either side into shadow. Seeing it, Takeru had a sudden nasty insight into his situation. Near the end of their 1999 adventure, Piemon’s tricks had transformed his friends one after another into dolls.

That’s what had happened. This time Takeru had not been able to avoid being caught. He could now feel the cold hardness at the base of his neck where the keychain connected to his immobilized body. But where was Piemon? And what, he thought with a churning of his stomach, was under the other sheet?

A voice answered him from somewhere far above.

“I will be taking over tonight.”

He had heard the voice before, but it took him a few moments to place it. The previous night its owner had stalked him through the rooms of Pinocchimon’s mansion. In his peripheral vision, Takeru could just make out a titanic figure in the darkness, rising over him to a height he could not determine.

“You’re too late, Takaishi-san. The battle is already over.”

A hand larger than Takeru’s entire body emerged into the small pool of light around the giant sheet, pinched the fabric between its fingers, and lifted it to reveal what it had hidden. Lined up before him were the losing participants of the fight: his brother, Hikari, Taichi, Sora, Daisuke, and Mimi. They were different from the dolls Piemon had created. Instead of plastic caricatures, they looked more like real people frozen into position. Their expressions were unmoving, but looking at their eyes he knew that they were as conscious as he was.

“You may be wondering right now where your partner Digimon is, but I want you to focus on what’s in front of you,” the voice said. “Out of these six people here, who do you care most about? I have my own guess, the obvious one, but I would like you to confirm it for me. Would your brother be the answer?

“No need for you to speak. I can see right into you. One way or another, you will answer the call. So…”

The hand reached down again and rested a fingertip atop Yamato’s head. There was a moment of silence before the voice resumed.

“Yes. ‘Onii-chan.’ Family the more precious because it is fragmented. That’s what I expected.”

The hand gave Yamato a flick, knocking him onto his face, his arms unable to brace him for the impact.

“And what about Motomiya-san?” the voice asked, pointing to Daisuke. Takeru strove not to think, but his perpetually open eyes were drawn to the monstrous hand and what it pointed to.

“You’re friends, though you haven’t known him long. He could be a little annoying, a little too forward, but you’ve grown to like him and who he is. Though, as I thought, Onii-chan wins out.”

Takeru, of course, didn’t move, but his heart seemed to lurch when the metal hammer slammed down without warning, Daisuke vanishing beneath its massive weight. It rested a moment where it had fallen, and Takeru was able to recognize it as Pinocchimon’s old weapon. Then it was dragged slowly back into the dark with a sound that made Takeru’s skin crawl. He was thankful when the hammer was gone that what it left was in shadow.

“And that’s the end of that friendship,” the voice said without emotion. “How about Tachikawa-san?”

The hand indicated Mimi, who was at the far left of the group, farthest from what had been Daisuke.

“You and she were the kids of the group, when all this began. Now she’s grown into a beautiful young woman.”

There was another smash of the hammer.

“She won’t be growing any more.”

This time the remains were dragged off the surface entirely, and Takeru could hear the hammer clatter on some lower floor.

“I’m not getting the kind of response I was hoping for, Takaishi-san. Maybe the next of your friends will be more fruitful.”

Takeru was watching the faces of the three people still standing, Taichi, Hikari, and Sora. They couldn’t move, but he felt as though he could see the terror in the open eyes. He willed himself to move, strained at every unresponsive muscle. He had to save them. He couldn’t let this happen. But he had no choice. He was a prisoner in his own body.

“Takenouchi-san. She was like an older sister to you, wasn’t she? She helped you to be strong when there seemed to be no reason left to resist.”

Something descended, more slowly than the hammer. As it settled down in front of him, Takeru saw that it was a transparent container of some sort, filled with water. The hand lifted Sora by her keychain.

“I was given specific instructions for this one,” said the voice. “She can now suffer literally the fate she should have metaphorically in 1999.”

Sora was dropped into the water. She sank quickly to the bottom of the container, supported by her frozen feet so that her eyes were almost on a level with Takeru’s.

“I estimate less than a minute.”

The speaker was probably right, though it seemed an eternity that the two Chosen Children stared at each other through the glass. At such close quarters Takeru could see that her eyes were still mobile, as his were. They could refocus, but for the most part they were locked on his. Eventually they rolled upwards, and he knew she was dead. The hand swept the container away, and the glass shattered somewhere below.

“Yagami Taichi. He never treated you like a child. You admired him. You still admire him, and it might kill you to lose anyone else, but…”

Suddenly Taichi was engulfed in green flames. There was no sound, and no telling how long it took for him to die, since the eyes were among the first parts of his body to melt. Soon there was little more than a featureless puddle, and the flames went out.

“Only two left,” the voice said. It was such a cold voice.

“Yagami Hikari. She was the first Chosen Child of your age to join the group…”

The speaker paused for a long while. Takeru waited in horrified expectation. Now that her brother was gone, tears were beginning to form in Hikari’s unblinking eyes.

“This is why you had to be brave, isn’t it?” asked the voice at last. “For the sake of the only person who needed as much looking after as you yourself did. Can you remain brave now, Takaishi-san? Can you keep on hoping, keep on reassuring? Can you stop this light from going out?”

The hand knocked Hikari aside, out of the range of Takeru’s vision and into the blackness.

“No.”

It then picked up Yamato and set him upright again. The emotion in Yamato’s eyes was nameless, almost an insanity. Their expression mirrored Takeru’s own.

“I have one last tool at my disposal. You may remember it.”

The hand released its grip and disappeared into the shadows. In the next second something flashed out of the dark, severing Yamato’s legs from his body in a single sweep. The hand reappeared, gripping the handle of a sword which could only be one of Piemon’s.

“Goodbye, Onii-chan.”

Another quick slice, and Yamato’s head was gone. The sword was then stabbed into the table, and the point bisected his torso.

“And so we’re done for now,” said the voice, as the hand was withdrawn. “It shouldn’t take long for the rest of your friends to arrive. Without you, or these six, what do they have? One Perfect, and a handful of Adults? Yes, they’ll be here very soon.”

As the light began to dim, the white sheet descended once more. Takeru felt as though it was smothering him in the darkness. He realized soon that the feeling was no illusion. The sheet was not merely draped over him, but was wrapping itself tightly around him, constricting him, cutting off his air.

***

All through the dream, Patamon had lain at his partner’s side. He was unaware of what was happening, but his own sleep was uneasy. Even though unconscious, he felt cold. The reason was that all of the covers were wrapped around Takeru, who in the last moments of the nightmare began to toss and groan. It took him some time to realize that he was awake and moving again, and longer for him to struggle free of his sheets, catch his breath, and remember where he was.

“Takeru?” Patamon asked, jarred awake by his partner’s violence. “Takeru, what’s wrong?”

The boy didn’t answer. He staggered over to his desk, clutching at it for support. His legs felt weak. For a while he thought that he was going to be sick, but the vomit didn’t come. Patamon flapped across the room and landed on the desk, and when Takeru recognized his partner he reached out, held the warm, fuzzy body close against his chest, and stood there, all but sobbing.

Gradually the events of the evening came back to him. Koshiro had messaged him that there had been a battle at the others’ apartments, but it had been won. His friends and brother were safe. They were not dead. He sat down at the desk with Patamon still in his arms, and for the first time in a long time, he cried.


	51. The Deep

_“After a while he began to shudder, and turned away from the scene as if frightened; yet could give no explanation save that he was overcome with the vastness, darkness, remoteness, antiquity, and mystery of the oceanic abysses.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Temple”_

Iori was in that state of mind which separates consciousness from unconsciousness, when the mind wanders without purpose over the scenes of the day and anything else that it happens to drift across. His mother had told him that Chiho had come to see him earlier in the day and been disappointed to not find him at home. He was sorry to let her down, but it couldn’t be helped. Now was not the time for him to be building a relationship with his elementary school girlfriend.

His fluid focus strayed to the time he had spent with Takeru earlier that day in the Digital World. For the most part they had traveled through a dense, swampy jungle and the surrounding areas, finding Dark Towers in random locations, often leaning at odd angles. Interspersed with these images were dim recollections of the previous night’s dream. The ocean floor split open. He couldn’t see what was below it – the jungle and its Dark Towers were back again – but he could feel the horror of it in his chest. Eventually, he finished passing into sleep, and he had no idea of how much time passed before the new dream began.

He was sitting up in a padded seat, looking through the glass dome of a one-man submarine. The scene was vaguely familiar, and after a few moments he remembered why. He had used a similar machine to escape alone from the offshore oil rig where the others had found the Digimental of Sincerity. He had no way of knowing if this was the same vehicle, but he knew that the circumstances were different this time around.

Either it was night, or he was much farther below the surface. Everything beyond the glass was a blue so deep that it was almost black. Looking down from his position, he could not see the ocean floor, and looking up he saw no signs of a surface. As before, he had no control over the movement of the craft. It moved straight on ahead toward some unknown destination.

He had time enough to think while he waited to arrive, and he was certain that wherever the submersible was headed, it was not towards safety. Was Submarimon somewhere out there, looking for him? But he told himself firmly not to think of the situation in terms of “safety” and where his partner might be. He was sure that this was another of the dreams which had been plaguing him and his friends, and it would be a bad idea to treat it as anything more. If he kept reminding himself that the dream couldn’t hurt him, it wouldn’t.

Long minutes passed, and seemed to become hours. Instead of boring him as he had hoped it might, the waiting preyed on his nerves. The sea went on forever. Strange thoughts began to creep into his mind. He couldn’t be sure that there was no movement outside the submarine. He had no way of knowing how far his vision could reach in the dark water. At times the feeling came over him that there might be something just outside the glass, staring in at him, and he fought off the sensation with difficulty.

What was it that Submarimon had said, that first time he had evolved? “The ocean is so wide.” At the time the words had crystalized in Iori’s mind the beauty of the ocean, with its colorful coral and gentle fishy denizens. Now, as they came back to him, they had new meaning. The ocean was wide. And it was deep. It continued for unimaginable distances in all directions, and anything could be hidden within its abysses. Dark, wriggling things crawled through it, and it concealed all the world’s forever lost and cursed treasures. The ocean is so wide. And here he was submerged in it.

Finally the monotony of the journey was broken. Out of the darkness a structure materialized. As the submersible drew closer to it, Iori could see that it was a gigantic cylinder. It would have been identical to the one he and his friends had been trapped in beneath the oil rig, except that it went up until his eyes could no longer distinguish it from the black water, and down to unseen depths.

The cylinder grew larger as the distance closed. It was obviously the submarine’s destination. _But how is it going to dock?_ Iori wondered. The pod’s speed remained unchanged, yet he could see no place in the structure’s smooth surface for it to enter. _No,_ Iori thought, _if this is supposed to be a nightmare I’m going to hit it._ He knew that, logically, the impact wouldn’t hurt him, but as his entire vision filled with the cylinder’s metal wall he couldn’t keep from squeezing his eyes shut.

Iori was unsure of what exactly the collision might be like, but he expected the submersible to be smashed to pieces when it hit, probably propelling him awake. Instead, there was a hollow clang and a tearing of metal, and when he next opened his eyes it was to see the shadowy interior of the cylinder. The glass dome of the pod had popped open, leaving room enough for him to climb out if he chose. His craft seemed to be lodged in the wall of the structure, raised a meter or so off the floor.

Iori considered staying where he was, but the pod groaned and shifted forward slightly. At any moment it might tumble to the floor. He climbed out as carefully as he could and dropped to the floor, then moved quickly away from the pod as it tilted again. He turned around to watch it, and soon it pitched forward and fell. Seawater began to pour in through the hole it had left in the outer wall. Iori was tempted to stand his ground, but when he felt how cold the water felt, and how real, he decided that he did not want to drown even in a dream.

Looking around, he spotted a metal staircase spiraling upwards to a higher floor, and headed for it. If his memory served him correctly, the layout of this dream place was the same as that of the offshore oil rig where the Digimental had been found. The difference was that in all probability he was now much deeper than he had ever been before. There was no telling how many levels were above this one.

He made his way quickly up the first staircase, then found himself on an identical floor, with another climb awaiting him. Running up the next flight of stairs, he began to feel winded, and wondered how it was possible for his mind to convince his body that it was exerting itself instead of lying in bed.

_It’s a dream. I know it’s a dream._

But it didn’t feel like a dream. All dreams seem real to a degree when a person is in them, but now there was no distinction at all between sleeping and waking. He could really smell the salt, and feel the stale air brushing past him, and hear the clatter and clang of every footfall on the metal stairs, and the echoes that followed.

Coming to the top of the second staircase, he paused to catch his breath. There needed to be an end to this. Countless levels lay above this one, and eventually he would be too exhausted to outrun the rising water. He thought back to the oil rig. There had been a way to shut off the water. V-mon had found it, somewhere along the outer wall. After a few minutes of searching Iori had located it, a button ringed in red and labeled, “Emergency Shutter.”

He pressed it, and the heavy metal shutters began to rumble somewhere above and below him. He steadied himself against the wall with one hand, and was preparing to rest when he heard something else.

“Iori!”

“Iori-kun!”

It was Miyako’s voice, and Takeru’s. Running to the center of the shaft and peering over the railing, Iori could see the shutters grinding closed. In the pit below, the water was rising slowly but steadily. Once the shutters were fully shut, it would be prevented from climbing any higher, but now he could see that his friends were down there, hurrying to catch up to him, and that they too would be cut off.

The shutter was closing rapidly, but Iori caught a glimpse of them before it grated shut entirely. They seemed to see him in the last moment. Daisuke and the others looked up and almost directly at him.

“Guys!”

It was the only word he got out before they vanished beneath the shutter. The rumbling ended soon afterwards. Silence followed, but Iori’s mind was a cacophony of conflicting thoughts. Those weren’t really his friends down there, just another part of the dream, but at the same time they were his friends, and he had just left them to drown. How glad he would be just now to be among friends, even dream friends, with whom he could face this nightmare.

After a moment’s hesitation he ran back to the large button, looking for a way to reopen the shutter, but there was nothing else. The button could not be un-pressed. He went back to the railing and stood looking down. Even from his height he could tell that the shutter would be immovable.

Iori was short on breath again, but not from exertion. _How? How can I save them? How!?_ This shouldn’t happen, even in a dream. To let them down – no, to kill them! His grip on the handrail tightened until his knuckles were white.

He gave a start when someone laughed on the floor above him.

“You want the shutter to open again? I could do that from up here.”

The voice was that of a friend, but there was nothing friendly in the tone, which was taken up by sadistic mirth.

“Ichijouji-san!”

Ichijouji Ken hadn’t been below with the others. Iori’s brain just hadn’t processed it at the time.

“No. I’m finished with him,” the voice replied. “The Digimon Kaiser has returned, and I won’t have an insect like you address me by any other name.”

_No, that isn’t Ichijouji-san,_ Iori thought. _He wouldn’t go back, after all we’ve been through together._

“I suppose I should be grateful to you for taking care of your friends for me. I think I’ll be leaving that shutter closed.”

“It’s a dream,” Iori whispered to himself. “It’s a bad dream. It’s just a dream!”

“A dream?” the Kaiser sneered. “No, this is a game. And I’m about to win.”

“Open it,” Iori said.

“What did you say?”

“Open it!”

“Who are you to give orders to the ruler of the Digital World?”

Iori ran to the next staircase and began to climb. If he came to grips with this thing, faced it head on, maybe he could tear through the illusion. Maybe he could finally wake up and be done with the whole morbid scenario.

“Now you want to come up? I think you fit much better down there.”

Iori was about halfway up the long, spiraling staircase when it began to sway beneath him. He tripped and fell, and the pain he felt on impact was real enough. Even so, he would have gotten up again, but now the stairs were bucking wildly. There was a sound like a thunderclap far below, and fetid seawater erupted on all sides, blasting the stairs apart. Iori felt weightless, out of contact with anything solid. And then he was falling, dropping dizzily downward, watching the roaring water swirl up endlessly into blackness.


	52. Small Hours

_“No one, even those who have the facts concerning the recent horror, can say just what is the matter with Dunwich; though old legends speak of unhallowed rites and conclaves of the Indians, amidst which they called forbidden shapes of shadow out of the great rounded hills, and made wild orgiastic prayers that were answered by loud crackings and rumblings from the ground below.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Dunwich Horror”_

Now that it was the middle of the night, the sourceless lighting of Sato Katsu’s base had dimmed somewhat, but this did not stop Sato himself from pacing its shadowed halls. Eventually wandering into a large, table-filled room, he took a seat and leaned forward, running his hands through his hair. It was quiet. The Hanumon which served as general staff for the complex were either sleeping or on guard nearer the entrance. Sato didn’t know where the Dark Man was at the moment, though he suspected that his unusual colleague had gone and insinuated himself into a dream of the enemy, as Sato had done not long ago.

He was now reviewing recent events over and over in his mind. There had been many more losses than victories for his organization. Very little had gone right since he and the Dark Man had announced their existence to the Chosen Children almost a week ago. On the other hand, the children and their partners had to be tired from the constant battles and mental assaults. They had been allowed almost no rest since this last campaign had begun, and now that the Adult and Perfect Digimon at Sato’s disposal had whittled away at their strength, it was time for his trump cards, the Ultimates, to take the stage.

According to Hiraga, Lilithmon planned to lure the Chosen Children to her, and Sato couldn’t envision her failing in a situation where all the odds would be in her favor. There was also Panimon, now in Tokyo and perpetrating nameless crimes as he prepared for the coming battle.

All of this passed through Sato’s thoughts in an instant, but he was still brooding over the chances of success when a soft but clear voice spoke up at the other end of the room.

“You are still awake.”

Sato jerked his head up and saw Anubimon in the darkness. The Digimon stood up and began walking towards him.

Sato was not in a mood to talk at the moment, least of all with Anubimon. The Digimon had obvious qualms with the work being done by Sato’s group. The Dark Man had convinced him to join in somehow, but Sato was certain that Anubimon was being coerced, and was not, as the other Digimon were, a devotee of the dark powers. Sato considered remaining silent, but he knew the encounter would be much less awkward if he replied.

“Actually I just woke up,” he said. “And what about you? Shouldn’t you be sleeping instead of wasting my time?”

Anubimon stopped at the other side of Sato’s table, but remained standing.

“I have no need of sleep,” he answered. “My duties make no allowance for it, especially in these tumultuous times.”

“You have new duties now,” Sato said. “Perhaps you should get back to them.”

“My energy is low. It will be a while yet before I can resume bringing the Dark Towers into this world. But what about you? Why do you never sleep?”

“I told you I just woke up,” Sato said irritably.

Anubimon slowly shook his head.

“You have returned from an invasion of another’s dream,” he said. “Not from a natural sleep. Why is it always so?”

An ugly expression passed over Sato’s face, like a sneer suddenly smothered by cold fury. He looked up at Anubimon to answer.

“How I spend my time is none of your business. I’ve put up with you long enough tonight. Get out.”

The Digimon didn’t move at first, and Sato raised his voice as he looked into Anubimon’s calm, questioning eyes.

“Get out!”

Anubimon turned around, took a step forward, paused briefly, but then continued on his way. Once he had left the room, Sato stood up and stalked out in the opposite direction. In a few minutes Sato was back in his black shrine, pacing around the perimeter. Eventually he stopped and gazed about the room.

Almost blending in with the stone of the floor were a number of sunken pipes running from the entrance to about the center of the chamber. There they fed into a well-like structure, which rose out of the floor to about waist height.

Sato walked over to this and peered over the stone rim, placing his hands on either side of it. Inside the well was a slowly turning vortex of whatever dark substance was running through the pipes, funneling downward into unknown depths, and Sato bowed reverently over its center. He closed his eyes and began to murmur.

“Old master, accept this our offering. The dream in the dark, the terror in the tear, the water in the lung…”

***

There was no way of telling how long they had been walking. Time means little in dreams. The path meandered ever onwards through the trees. Sometimes it was choked with undergrowth where the forest had begun to reclaim it, and other times the foliage fell away to reveal misty valleys and hilltops crowned with brutish ruins. The day was dark. Everything in sight looked washed out, drained of color and vitality.

So far, Miyako hadn’t said anything. Why hadn’t she? Some sound seemed needed here, where the soft earth deadened even their footfalls. She and Hawkmon were at the back of the group, and she could see the other five Chosen Children and their partners. They were also quiet. Each was too lost in his or her own thoughts to reach out to any of the others.

“Hey, everyone, doesn’t look like there’s anything out in this direction,” Miyako said, eager to start a conversation of any kind. But there was no response. The others maintained their pace. No one said anything in reply, or even turned their head around to acknowledge that someone had spoken. “Don’t you think,” Miyako persisted, “That it might be better to go back?”

As if on cue, the fog rolled lazily across the path, obscuring her view of the others.

“It’s so foggy we can hardly see, anyways,” she continued, swiveling her head and trying to pierce the mist around her. She was beginning to get frustrated. She waved her hands in front of her, trying to disperse the fog. “Why won’t anyone say anything!?” she asked. She walked faster, trying to catch up to her friends.

The mist finally began to thin. The path still continued on, but Miyako could see no one on it. Could the others have taken a turn somewhere in the fog? She looked down, but there was no sign of Hawkmon either. Behind her she could see no one, nor any sign of a fork in the trail.

“Guys?” She hurried on ahead. “Come on, guys, where are you?”

A low stone wall rose up on her left, and she followed its curve until the trees fell away and she could see around the bend. There she came to an abrupt stop, because someone she didn’t recognize was standing alongside the path, leaning on the wall.

“You look lost,” the person said. It was a man’s voice. From where she stood, Miyako couldn’t make out his features. The distance between them wasn’t far, but maybe the fog helped to obscure his face. She suspected from the tone of his voice that he might be making fun of her, and the impression strengthened when he smiled at her with teeth brighter than anything else in this strange place.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, her apprehension fueling her irritability.

“Funny?” he said. “Nothing. But you do look lost. Anything I can help you with?”

“Well… I can’t find my friends. Did you see them go through here?”

“No one went through here,” he answered. “No footprints but yours, see?” He pointed at the ground behind her, and looking there she could see that while her own footprints were clearly imprinted in the moist soil, there were no signs of any other passage. A little chuckle from the man brought her head around again.

“Were you just with them?” he asked. “Are you sure you aren’t imagining things? You may see all sorts of strange things out here sometimes.”

“Could I—” Her voice seemed a little small and inadequate. She couldn’t tell if the guy thought she was crazy or was about to start telling a ghost story, but she didn’t like the look of him, and she didn’t like this place and this strange situation. “Could I just get directions? I mean, how to get out of here? I should really get home.”

“No directions necessary,” he answered. “Just follow the path.”

Miyako looked down the trail to where it took a sharp turn and disappeared. She definitely didn’t want to walk it alone, but she wasn’t about to ask this stranger to accompany her.

“Really…?” she asked, stalling.

“Really. It can take you anywhere.” He laughed again, softly.

“O-h… Well, then, I’ll be going,” she said with a nervous giggle. “Uh, thanks.” She started walking briskly forward, keeping her eyes ahead. She couldn’t keep from glancing at the man as she approached him, and her brain noted in a far-off way that there were no footprints leading to his position.

“Have fun, Inoue-san,” he said as she passed him.

She hurried on, rounding the bend. She was having trouble keeping from breaking into a run. As she battled with her fears the path grew wider and leveled out, and the fog grew denser, until she may have been standing in a field of dirt. After moving aimlessly forward for a while she came to a stop and began to turn her head about looking for any landmarks.

“Of course it can take me anywhere if I don’t know which way to go!” she muttered to herself. There was nothing in sight but a wall of fog on all sides. “No waaay! I just want to go home!” She took an impulsive step forward, then yelped as her foot encountered no ground. Immediately after there was a soft rustle as the saturated earth under her other foot crumbled.

She was sliding down a wall of dirt. Her arms were thrown out to her sides, but there was nothing for the hands to catch at. Before long her boots met solid ground again, and she took a moment to catch her breath and compose herself. She had landed at the bottom of a roughly cylindrical hole some five meters deep. It was amazing she wasn’t hurt.

The fog didn’t reach down into the hole, and she could see her surroundings clearly by the pale light filtering through it, but that gave her little comfort. She was a decent climber, but making it all the way out of the pit would be an effort – if not impossible. The walls were damp earth, marred intermittently by tiny tunnels, and with no solid handholds but an occasional protruding rock.

The silence of the day was broken by a low rumble that seemed to make its way up from beneath the ground. It made Miyako uneasy, because it reminded her of the earthquakes which had been disturbing the Digital World recently. This would be the worst possible time for something like that to happen. She glanced down at the pit’s floor and grimaced in disgust. Several long, fat earthworms were squirming up out of the ground, perhaps driven from their homes by that strange rumbling. The sound, meanwhile, was continuing, rising and falling in volume so that it almost seemed to have a rhythm to it.

Miyako turned her attention back to the sides of the hole, and began to test it for hand and footholds. Soon she had her feet up off the ground. Looking for her next move, she noticed that the walls, like the floor, were not entirely still. Several insects were beginning to crawl out of the little holes. Most were nothing too terrible, but she would rather not have gotten a look at them. There was a silverfish there, and an earwig over an inch long there. As she was fumbling for a handhold a long centipede scuttled out of a burrow and over her glove, and she flung it away from her.

She looked up, but the rim of the pit was still so far away. The noise from underground was louder, even in its lulls. She was sure now that there was a pattern behind it. She might even be able to break it down into gargantuan words, but that was crazy, and she didn’t allow herself to try and find meaning in the sound.

She had successfully moved up another section of the wall when she happened to look at the space just in front of her. Sitting in her line of sight was a fat cockroach, her very least favorite species of insect. She had no time to react before it had taken flight and launched directly into her face. Letting out a little scream, she waved one hand before her in an effort to ward it off, but the suddenness of her movement caused her other hand to slip from its tenuous grip.

The next she knew she was lying on her back, staring up into the mist above the pit. The subterranean rumbling was rising in volume again, now accompanied by loud cracking sounds. The air above her was abuzz with flying insects, but they didn’t obscure her view of the face which intruded on the circle of gray fog. There were white teeth, and the dark eyes seemed to glitter as they looked down at her. The smiling mouth framed a word.

“Bingo!”

Then the walls of the pit exploded in a shower of dirt. Briefly Miyako saw the black swarms behind them, before the earth and bugs began to pile up on top of her, cutting off all light, suffocating, crushing.


	53. The Deep Ones

_“Who knows the end? What has risen may sink, and what has sunk may rise. Loathsomeness waits and dreams in the deep, and decay spreads over the tottering cities of men.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Call of Cthulhu”_

Ken was standing in the dark, feeling that something was wrong. His eyes were slow to adjust to the dimness, but his ears could hear clearly the sound that surrounded him. It was a ceaseless rushing and whispering noise, like the flow of a swift but smooth river flowing on through black tunnels below the earth. Was that where he was? It would explain the darkness. Meanwhile, the whispering sound and the darkness were not the only things troubling him.

He was wearing something on his head. It was a familiar feeling. A strap ran around the back of the head, while in the front something was situated over his eyes. In the beginning of the dream, his false sensations took a while to organize themselves into a recognizable environment. Was he blindfolded? No, he could see massive unmoving objects in the dark, clearer now than when he came to his senses.

Then the vagueness of the dream solidified into a new reality, and he realized what he must be wearing. He brought his hands up – he had gloves on – to tear it off his head. At first it wouldn’t come loose. The strap seemed to tighten even as he tugged on it. He dug his fingers into his unusually wild hair, trying to loosen it. There was a weight like shackles around his wrists, but he knew it was just part of the gloves.

Finally the glasses slipped off and he flung them away from him. He could see more clearly without the tinted lenses, and now realized that he was in a cave of some kind, surrounded by gigantic stalagmites. How had he gotten here? He had no memory of what had led up to this moment, unlike that day in the forest, when Hikari and Miyako had come in answer to his screams.

But that didn’t matter at the moment. If there was enough light to see by, there must be a way out, and near. He began to move forward, cautiously feeling his way ahead. Though he could see to an extent, he didn’t want to stumble on the irregular floor.

He was fully aware of how he was dressed. The feel of the Digimon Kaiser’s clothing was as familiar as if he had never stopped wearing it. It made his skin crawl, despite being comfortable. Comfortable! He would have cast it all aside like the glasses, but the cave was cold and wet, and he had no other options. He was almost certain now that the constant mindless whisper was rushing water, but he saw no sign of it.

Was this real light he was moving towards, or just an imitation? He knew of a place where the sun was not needed to see. “Real” or not, it was growing brighter, or rather the darkness was lessening. Almost before he knew it he had found his way out of the cave, and a slate-colored sky stretched above him.

It brought him little comfort. The walls of uneven rock swept off to either side, leaving a bowl-shaped depression like a crater in solid rock. He could see something up ahead, and though he had nowhere else to go, he liked the look of it less the closer he drew to it.

Its shape was something like an archway, or a segment of Stonehenge. The material that made it up couldn’t be determined from a distance, but was almost sure to be the same dark-colored rock that made up the floor and walls of this strange arena.

As Ken continued to advance, he found his progress impeded by twisted outcroppings that had a strange habit of remaining unnoticed until he was almost up against them, and several times he stumbled on rocks and in depressions hidden by the omnipresent monochrome of this nightmare place. The problem was exacerbated by his reluctance to look down and see himself.

At last it seemed as though he had made it almost to his destination. He came up short, partly to rest and partly because he didn’t want to get any closer. One of the two vertical parts of the structure was nearer to him than the other, and he thought he could make out a rough-hewn staircase spiraling upwards, cut out of the rock.

His eyes ranged up this and began following the horizontal beam that it supported. There was something, there were several things, suspended from its center, but with the height he couldn’t be sure…

A sudden movement in his peripheral vision caused him to twist his head quickly to the side. Something was making its way slowly down the stairs. Almost the same instant he noticed it, another shadowy shape stepped out from behind one of the stalagmites. This one he could see clearly.

From such a short distance Ken could make out every detail, not that there were many. It stood higher than he did, about the size of a human adult. Human, however, it was decidedly not. The skin was an inky, glistening black – in fact, the only spots of color were the pale, expressionless yellow eyes, staring out of dark pits in the face like the sockets of a skull. That face protruded in a blunt snout, though Ken could detect neither mouth nor nostrils in it. For the rest, the creature was almost featureless. There were spines protruding from the top and sides of the head like those of a venomous fish. The long arms ended in hands with five pointed fingers. The torso bulged at the waist, and the short legs stood on large, apparently webbed feet.

_Is this a Digimon?_ Ken wondered. Almost any Digimon could be frightening when menacing a human, but just by standing motionless this thing horrified him. There was something unclean about it. He imagined it climbing from the muck of the ocean’s abysses. Ken expected it to lunge forward and rend him to pieces, but instead it bowed its head deeply. When it straightened and spoke, the voice was sepulchral but understandable.

“Digimon Kaiser, you have returned.”

The greeting felt like a punch in the gut. Ken staggered backwards, stumbling over a protruding rock and nearly falling. There had been a time when that name was the only one he answered to, when he had been trying to forget Ichijouji Ken and rise above him. How he had relished the fear in the voices of his victims, “Digimon Kaiser!” He had even liked the sound of it in the mouths of the Chosen Children, with their laughably righteous anger. It had made him feel dangerous, in control. Now the words brought only a wave of nausea.

“That’s – That’s not my name,” he stuttered.

“No other name suits you,” the thing answered. “Take it without fear. Our god has forgiven your failings.”

“Your god,” Ken choked out.

The black thing raised an arm and pointed aloft to the stone archway, where the distant objects hang from the stone.

“We have already done what you asked for, Digimon Kaiser. The executions you ordered are finished.”

Ken refused to raise his eyes. He could see other things like the speaker peering at him from among the rocks, but he greatly preferred to look at them instead of at whatever – whoever – was hanging from the arch.

“In their last breaths they cursed you…”

“No…” Ken said. “Back then – I only wanted to beat them! To win the game! I would never – I would never—!”

“Digimon Kaiser…”

The words were repeated all around him. The lurking monsters each took it up like a litany in some terrible ritual.

“No!” Ken fumbled with his gloves, trying to free himself from the Kaiser’s accoutrements. One slid off, and the hand beneath was red. The dampness he felt was not that of water. With a scream he turned and dodged among the rocks, shaking his hands to try and rid them of innocent blood. He ran across an open space, passing by the great stone arch, and though he didn’t look at it he could hear crunching thuds as the hanging objects fell off to his side.

He had no idea where he was headed, or whether there was any escape from this place. The sound of rushing water, diminished once he had left the cave, was now growing louder again as he approached the edge of the arena. He would gladly throw himself into that river it if it meant being swept away from this awful place.

A cleft in the rock wall opened before him, and he could see sky beyond it. He dashed through without a thought to what might lie on the other side. Too late, he saw that what awaited him was the ocean, a gray desert, and just below him a rushing maelstrom with black at its center. He tried to skid to a halt, but the moist stone beneath him would not allow it. His feet slipped out from under him, and in the next moment he was plummeting towards the whirlpool.

***

Hikari was swept through the blackness, skidding over and off the surface beneath her and into dizzying free-fall. Her body still couldn’t move, but within her there was a violent struggle to hold on to her sanity. She held on to the hope that this was another dream. It was too horrible to be anything real. In the morning she could wake up and find her brother at the table for breakfast, alive and well, and afterward meet up with Daisuke and Sora and Mimi. There was no need to give any thought to what awful things might be happening to Takeru and Yamato as she fell into some new hell. She had to believe that. To doubt would be the end of her.

After what seemed ages, her descent began to slow, and before long she could feel her feet once more on solid ground. The darkness lifted, or rather lessened, leaving her in the terrible place she had dreamed of the previous night. Impossible constructions of black stone towered into the sky, leaning at odd angles, their shapes difficult to comprehend. Every surface seemed almost to ooze, the way a slug secretes mucus, and she was thankful that this time she had shoes on.

What comfort it gave her was negligible, however, compared to her unease. There were no sounds in this strange fortalice, only an utter silence, filled by shadows and the reek of marine things that had haunted all her dreams of the previous nights. She expected the quiet to be broken at any moment by the mental impacts of the last dream, but they never came.

So far, Hikari hadn’t moved. She felt that she could now – the keychain had disappeared and was no longer a part of her – but maybe it was better not to move. There was no means of intentionally escaping the dream, and if she went exploring she would only find more horrors. It was hard, though, waiting for something to happen, and after a few minutes she could no longer resist the urge to turn around and make sure there was nothing behind her, ready to fasten its webbed fingers on her arm.

There was no lurking monster, but there was a door. In a place where straight lines and distance meant little, there was no way of knowing exactly how the portal was oriented, but she could see it was made of the omnipresent black stone, set into one of the dark buildings, and bordered by unknown symbols. There was no doubt in her mind that this would be where whatever was coming would make its entrance.

She didn’t have to wait long. The door seemed to fold in on itself, disappearing from view and leaving a gaping hole from which darkness wafted like smoke. With it came the smell, not rotting sea creatures but another, much stronger, but like nothing a human being had smelled before. Slowly, Hikari began to back away, but she did not get far. There was a slopping and sucking noise in the black depths beyond the doorframe, and something began to emerge. It wasn’t what she had been expecting – much worse.

They came snaking out of the blackness, half a dozen of them, writhing with a grotesque slowness, bobbing like cobras preparing to strike. They were blue, slithering tendrils or tentacles, smooth and without suckers. Each was about as big around as a mid-sized tree’s branch, growing thicker as they trailed off into the shadow, back to where their unimaginable owner waited.

Hikari’s mouth was wide with horror. She felt like screaming, but the sound caught in her throat and choked her. In the dim depths of her mind she heard something, a greedy, gelatinous sound. It didn’t sound like anything, but she was sure it was laughing.

One of the tentacles slid quickly forward and had looped behind her before she had a chance to react. The back of her ankles collided with it and she went down, trying to turn, regain her balance and run, to no avail. The tentacle twined round both her legs in a moment, wrapping itself up to her waist. Her shirt was smeared with ooze, but she hardly noticed, feeling instead the cold, nauseating sensation of the thing’s jelly flesh against the bare skin of her thighs.

She tried to pull herself along the ground, away from the pit, but another of the blue appendages arrested one of her arms, leaving her only able to scrabble with the fingers of her free hand at the slippery stone. It didn’t matter. Slowly she was being dragged toward the open door. She knew that the thing could have pulled her through in an instant, but it was toying with her. The tentacles could tear her apart without effort, but they were saving her for something else.

“Help!” she managed to shout, but the awful voice in her head only grew louder. A third thick tendril wound around her upper arm and drew it back, pinned it to her side. A fourth drew forward as she raised her head to keep her face out of the slime and covered her eyes, which were tearing up with terror. Hikari wanted to call out again, for her partner – _Where is she?_ – for her brother – _But he’s—!_ – but the vision of a tentacle forcing its way down her throat kept her mouth shut.

The stench was overpowering. The darkness was deepening. She had passed the threshold of the door. There was no way to stay quiet.

***

Tailmon continued to shake her partner, putting more urgency into it as Hikari’s groans grew louder. At last the girl was awake again, shuddering violently.

“Tailmon! You’re here. Where’s my brother? Are they all—”

“It’s okay, Hikari,” the Digimon answered. “Everything’s alright now.”

But it wasn’t, really. Hikari didn’t sleep for the rest of the night, and Tailmon sat beside her all the while, watching as if to keep the nightmares away. The bed seemed very real to Hikari. She was wearing her pajamas again instead of her usual outfit, and the muck had disappeared from her clothes and skin. All the same, she desperately wanted a shower.


	54. Frozen Odaiba

_“You ask me to explain why I am afraid of a draught of cool air; why I shiver more than others upon entering a cold room, and seem nauseated and repelled when the chill of evening creeps through the heat of a mild autumn day.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “Cool Air”_

“Daisuke…”

Daisuke opened groggy eyes and turned his head to the side, blinking at his darkened room. There was no one there.

“Chibimo…” he began, but stopped when he saw that his partner was sleeping peacefully to his left. Had he really heard anything? The voice had been so soft and faint that it may have been his imagination, or the last fragment of an unremembered dream.

He shut his eyes and waited to drift off; it didn’t take long for him to fall into another dreamless sleep. An hour passed.

“Daisuke.”

There it was again, slightly clearer than before. It was a girl’s voice. A voice he felt he should know. But he couldn’t remember, and a look into the shadows beyond the bed revealed no one else in the room. Daisuke didn’t shut his eyes again, but listened for any repetition of his name. The room remained silent. Eventually the stress of the day caught up with him, and he was asleep again.

***

“Daisuke.”

There was no mistaking it this time. Someone had called his name. Simultaneous with the sound came cold. Daisuke awoke freezing, shivering under icy sheets. The room was unchanged, still dark, the silence marred only by that one word.

“Who’s there?” he asked, sitting up and throwing the sheet off of him. The air was just as chill. “Chibimon?” He looked, but there was no sign of his partner. “Aah, where did he go?”

“Daisuke, please…”

He whipped his head around, but still saw no one. Now that he was more aware, however, he finally recognized the disembodied voice.

“Nat-chan?”

He was sure it was her. Just earlier this summer he had met her, and spent a day uncovering her identity. Was she here? In Tokyo? Was that why it was so cold?

He got out of bed and went to the window, wincing as his bare feet met the burning coldness of the floorboards. He could see that the streets below him were dusted with white. Winter had come to Odaiba in the middle of the night. He hurried over to his drawers and pulled some socks on. Chibimon was still nowhere to be found, which Daisuke thought was a little strange. He was sure now that the experience in New York was repeating itself, but the last time his partner had been drawn out of summer with him.

But what mattered now was finding Nat-chan. Partly because she might be the only way back to his own world, but mostly because she needed him again. He left the bedroom to get his winter coat from the closet. The apartment was silent. His parents, Jun, and Caprimon were all missing. Was he all alone this time? After bundling up, he stepped out of the apartment and into the frigid air of the balcony.

“Nat-chan!”

There was no reply.

_Why won’t she answer?_ He wished Chibimon was here, or anyone for that matter. Wallace and Gummymon could get on his nerves, but at least they and Mimi-san had been company in an unearthly situation. Maybe… maybe some of his friends were in this world as well, asleep in their apartments? He went for the stairs and began heading down to the Yagami family’s floor.

He caught up short, however, once he had reached it. Would Nat-chan want him to bring anyone else? Would their presence comfort her, or just remind her of her loneliness? What would he say to introduce them? “This is Taichi-san, but he already has a partner. And this person is the reason I couldn’t name you Hikari.”

It wasn’t long before he found out that it wouldn’t be a problem. The door to the Yagami apartment was frozen shut.

“Taichi-san!” he shouted, pounding on the door. “Hikari-chan! Is anyone in here?” There was no reply. He couldn’t even try and turn the door handle without his fingers slipping off. Everything was coated in ice so thick that his knocks couldn’t make a crack in it.

“Please come, Daisuke.”

He turned. It sounded as though she was somewhere below him, but looking over the railing he could see no one, just the snowy plaza, its trees bare of leaves. He started walking back to the stairs. On the way he happened to notice that the doors to the other apartments were not iced over as the Yagamis’ had been. For some reason, it made him uncomfortable.

Finally he reached ground level, and looked around for Nat-chan.

“Daisuke. Daisuke!”

The voice was faint and far, but he knew instinctively which direction to go in order to follow it.

“Come, Daisuke. Come…”

Before long he had broken into a run, slipping every now and again on patches of ice or slick snow, but managing to stay on his feet. Wind stung his face and ears. He had no idea where he was headed, and wouldn’t be able to remember afterwards just what route he took. All sense of time left him. He may have run for hours, or ages, or mere moments before he had come up against what he knew was his destination.

He didn’t recognize this part of Odaiba, assuming he was still in Odaiba. He stood on a windswept city street, and in front of him was a door, the glass front iced over, but the handle unfrozen. He couldn’t hear Nat-chan’s voice anymore, but he knew, somehow, that she was waiting for him beyond the door.

He grasped the handle with one gloved hand and pulled. At first it wouldn’t come; there was ice around the frame, but with another tug he was able to pull it free. It was dark inside. Daisuke stepped in, but couldn’t find a light switch anywhere near the door. The place appeared to be empty. The moonlight from the street failed to reveal any furniture.

“Nat-chan?” Daisuke asked the emptiness. In here he was out of the wind, but the temperature hadn’t risen at all. “Nat-chan?” He was growing impatient with the silence and the cold. He rushed forward, farther into the room. “Nat-chan! Where are you?”

This time he got an answer, though not the one he had been hoping for. Behind him, the open door slammed shut. He started and turned around to absolute blackness, as if the door were no longer translucent. For the first time it occurred to him that he may have walked into a trap. He tried to retrace his steps through the cold dark, but couldn’t find the door, or a wall, or anything to dispel the emptiness and desolation of the place.

“Damn it…” In every direction there was nothing but darkness stretching on forever. Was Nat-chan somewhere in it? And – a chill, not from the cold, ran through him – was she the girl he had befriended, or was she the Digimon with claws that could level a house?

He didn’t call her name again. In that vast dark, anything might answer his call. He listened, straining his ears for any whisper of friend or enemy. After a few moments of tense waiting, he thought that he might be able to hear something after all. It was not the sound of movement, really, but a sort of continuous background noise so faint that he could only notice it in the absolute stillness. There was no telling when it had started, or if it had been there all along.

It could almost be described as musical, but there was no tune to it. It tinkled and shimmered – not sounding like anything in particular, though Daisuke felt as though he knew it, somewhere deep in the back of his mind, as if he had heard it before. It seemed that to an extent the sound was all around him, but listening closer he realized that it was loudest behind him.

He whipped around and let out a yelp, because at first glance there seemed to be a pair of golden, luminous eyes staring at him. Then he saw one wink out and the other rise, and noticed that the air was full of them, small lights at various distances, glowing briefly into existence and vanishing the next moment. Like fireflies.

But more like data chips, the things he and the others had seen hovering in New York’s snow, because that’s what they were. He had seen them emerge from Nat-chan, flock around her, turn her into a rampaging monster. Did that mean—?

“Nat-chan!”

The words had no sooner left his mouth than the chips shot forward to engulf him in a shimmering cloud, the noise of them leaping out of the background to fill his ears with cacophony. Some collided with his face, stinging like bees, while he could feel others latching onto his limbs and thudding against his coat. Too surprised to even cry out, he beat at them wildly with both hands, and staggered drunkenly about trying to escape the angry swarm. He smacked them from his arms, but they swirled about and reattached themselves to some other surface of his body. He wasn’t thinking coherently at the moment, but there were a number of thoughts tumbling loose in his brain: _Why?_ , _Stop!_ , _Nat-chan? Nat-chan!_ , _No, go away! I’m not like that!_

He dodged to one side and weaved, trying to shake off the storm of data chips. He spun half around and ran with his head down low, but his feet ran out of floor in the darkness and suddenly he was plummeting through sub-zero temperatures. Then there was something under him again – a frictionless slope. He was sliding down and down into the frozen core of the earth, but the chips were gone and light was creeping back again. Soon the floor had leveled out, and he came skidding to a stop.

Shuddering with cold and adrenaline, Daisuke got to his feet. He could see again. A blue light, cold, like everything else here, illuminated a titanic chamber like the heart of a glacier. For the most part the place was empty, on one side rising into the steep slope he had just slid down, stretching away on the other sides into frozen infinity.

But there was something to break the monotony. Near where he stood there were strange immobile shapes rising from the floor, and he approached them, trying to determine what they were. He had come almost up to the first structure before he realized that it was a swing set like what might be found on a playground. But the whole thing was coated with ice. The swings hung stiffly, and every surface was so thickly frozen that it was impossible to see any sign of what lay beneath the ice.

Looking around, it dawned on him that all of the objects looked like playground equipment. There was a jungle gym, a merry-go-round, a slide. Without really thinking he grasped one of the swing’s chains, to shake it free of the ice. The ice broke when he pulled, but there was no chain beneath it. The whole thing just shattered at his tug, and the seat broke loose of the remaining chain and exploded into shards as it hit the floor.

Daisuke looked about him in uneasy wonder. The playground was not covered in ice, it was made of ice. How anyone could have created it, and why, was beyond him.

“Tears make good building material.”

Daisuke had been waiting to hear Nat-chan again, but this was a man’s voice, and there was humor behind it.

“Who are you?” he shouted, turning his head back and forth to scan the frozen horizon. “Where’s Nat-chan?”

“Have you overlooked her?” the voice asked. “Don’t feel too bad. Everyone does.”

Daisuke growled, but he was cut short.

“You came,” she said.

This time he could tell where her voice was coming from. The other voice temporarily forgotten, he walked about to the other side of the merry-go-round and saw her. Nothing about her had changed. She was dressed the same as she had been in New York, without a coat, and it made him even colder to look at her.

“Nat-chan?”

She looked up at him; her eyes found his face.

“Daisuke. You came back.”

“Yeah,” he said, with a half-smile. “Of course. But… where are we?”

Her expression darkened.

“I don’t know. I’ve always been here, alone.”

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “Back to where it’s summer. Oh,” he started to remove his coat, “Aren’t you cold? Here.”

“Daisuke,” she smiled, “You’re always so nice to me. You’re the only one who hears me. Can’t you stay?”

He draped the coat awkwardly over her front, not having the courage to move her so as to put it on properly.

“You don’t have to stay here,” he said. “We can find a way out! We can find a place that’s warm.”

“I can’t… please stay.”

Her voice sounded distant, as if she were no longer right beside him. The whole scene before him was shrinking, becoming vague and hazy.

“Nat-chan!” The name echoed. The terrible cold ebbed away as the vision of Nat-chan darkened and faded entirely.


	55. Covenants

_“‘Of course, no matter what the eventuation, with all the Satanic and pre-Satanic facilities at my disposal, I should be in no great danger from these addlepated bigots.’” – Clark Ashton Smith, “The Holiness of Azedarac”_

The castle stood alone in perpetual twilight. The sun would be rising soon in the human and digital worlds, but it would never rise here. Jagged spires stood on every hand, the walls grotesquely carved, the arched windows unlighted. Broad stone walkways connected many of these, but in the darkness it was difficult to tell if anything was making use of them. In the entire massive structure there appeared to be only one lit room. From the center of the fortress there rose the highest of its towers, supported by spiked buttresses, and at its bulbous pinnacle wide arches provided access to a circular throne room illuminated by gigantic blazing torches.

The arches only pierced half of the room’s circumference, and against the room’s unbroken back wall was the throne itself. The great chair was ornately and impressively figured, but no mortal being could look upon it without fear, for here sat Demon. He remained as the Chosen Children had last seen him the previous December, mantled in deep red, arcane symbols covering his robes. Clawed, scaly hands gripped the throne’s armrests. From the blackness beneath the hood his blue eyes blazed more brightly than the torches. He was growing impatient.

Something had happened, and it was past the time for his servants to return with the news of what it was. He had felt it many hours ago. There was a stirring of the darkness composing this world, a change in its aspect that he could feel as one feels a change in temperature. Black-winged Digimon, his loyal followers, had been deployed immediately, but none had yet come back to tell him the nature of what he had sensed.

Demon stood and went to the arch directly across from the throne. Below him spread the castle, and the dark barren fields beyond its outermost walls. Nowhere in the World of Darkness was bright or vibrant, but here the air and skies were even darker than in other realms. Demon, however, had little need of light to see, and there was no sign of his scouts as he scanned the horizon.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sense of something behind him. Turning around, he saw that the intruder was, to all appearances, a human being, smiling placidly as he stood beside the throne. There was no sign of how he had made his entrance.

“Who are you?” Demon asked, any anger he might have felt tempered by curiosity. Not just any human, if that’s what this person was, could enter the Dark World, and very few of those would look so pleased about it.

“Oh, that’s not important,” the man said. Despite the brightness of the torches, his face remained in shadow. Only his glittering eyes could be seen clearly, and the flash of his teeth when he spoke. “I wanted to come by and see how you were doing, since you’ve been a little slow on the uptake.”

“What do you mean?” the demon lord asked, blue eyes narrowing.

“Can’t you feel it? Your second chance draws nigh. An opportunity to erase your last amusing failure.”

Demon’s temper was rising, but he was beginning to put things together. Assuming this person was telling the truth, the change Demon had felt was a weakening of the barriers between worlds.

“You have another shot at the Dark Seed,” the man continued, confirming Demon’s suspicions.

“And how does that concern you, vermin?”

The Dark Man smiled more broadly.

“It means you’ll be having a rematch with the Chosen Children, who I’ve taken an interest in recently. I wonder if your luck will be any better this time.”

“They cannot outwit me again.”

“Time will tell,” the man scoffed.

“How dare you mock me,” Demon snarled. “Begone.” He raised a pale hand, and a jet of fire poured from its palm.

The intruder spread his own hands in front of himself, as if to block Demon’s attack. A human would have been incinerated, but the flames actually stopped as they struck the hands. The Dark Man was pushed backwards perhaps an inch, then braced himself against the floor and swept his arms to either side of him. The fireball, split in two, scorched the throne room’s floor behind him, and died out. He was unharmed. His clothes were singed, but even this damage repaired itself – the fabric literally growing back.

“Impossible…” Demon muttered.

“There’s no need for that,” the Dark Man chuckled. “I didn’t come to fight, I came to make a proposition.”

“What do you mean?”

Demon’s tone was suspicious, menacing, but he was intrigued by this odd being nevertheless.

“Well, let me make sure I understand you. You entered the human world not too long ago looking for the Dark Seed. Do you still want it?”

Demon said nothing.

“And what did you want it for?” the Dark Man persisted.

“That isn’t your business,” Demon said. “I see no reason to answer your questions when I know nothing about you. Get to the point.” The Dark Man laughed a little at that, and Demon at that moment sensed something unusual about the man, an inherent quality he couldn’t put a name to.

“You’re refreshingly direct,” the Dark Man said. “I can appreciate that after the people I’ve been working with.”

“You begin to bore me, and that is dangerous,” said Demon. “What could you possibly have to offer to a Demon Lord?”

“Several things. I suppose you’ve heard of Lilithmon? Recently I gave her and her followers access to the Digital World and the human world. As you can see, I have a knack for entering and leaving this World of Darkness.”

“I have yet to see you leave,” Demon said, but he didn’t really doubt that this man could do so if he wished.

“Soon, perhaps,” said the Dark Man, grinning. “But I can get you out, and any number of your servants. Furthermore, I offer you the Dark Seeds.”

Demon’s eyes widened. The Dark Seeds! Was that what he felt? But no, the aura of this man did not match that of what he sought.

“What are you thinking?” he said. “I know you cannot have them.”

“I don’t.”

“Nor could you ever obtain them.”

“Don’t be so sure,” the Dark Man said, raising a didactic finger. “We have already made progress in this direction, and I suspect that soon our plans will come to fruition in a very big way.”

“‘We?’ And just who are these allies of yours that you put so much faith in?”

“Faith!” the Dark Man crowed, doubling over in sudden laughter.

“Stop that!” Demon commanded, enraged at his visitor’s irreverent attitude. “Answer me!”

Recovering, the Dark Man straightened himself.

“At the moment my talents are at the disposal of a servant of the High Priest,” he said.

Demon gave an audible smirk.

“Is that how things are? Dagomon could never succeed where I have once failed.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” the Dark Man said. “But wouldn’t it be best to avoid a conflict of interests? The High Priest’s followers are everywhere, scattered throughout the worlds. Vamdemon’s minions were far from being your equals, and look at all the trouble they caused.”

“Is that a threat?” Demon asked softly.

“Of course not!” the Dark Man chuckled. “Who threatens Demon? But consider my offer, the benefits to yourself.”

The massive torches began to sink low, as though their inexhaustible fuel was suddenly insufficient. The Dark Man stood cloaked in shadow, and every moment saw it dim, until only the gleam of his eyes stood out from the darkness of the throne room.

“And how will you receive my answer?” Demon asked.

“Don’t worry,” the Dark Man said, his teeth flashing. “I’ll know.”

The gloom became complete before the torches flared up again, resuming their wonted brightness and revealing the Dark Man to be gone. Demon extinguished them entirely with an irritated wave of his hand.

“Just who are you?” he asked the empty room. Only silence. “No matter. The end result will be the same.”

***

Sato met the Dark Man at the top of the stairs to the black shrine.

“How did it go?” he asked.

“It could have been worse. It shouldn’t take him long to come to a decision, and I expect him to be reasonable.”

“That doesn’t sound like a success.” Sato’s voice was cold. The Dark Man gave him a sidelong glance.

“Don’t you trust my judgment?”

Sato opened his mouth to reply, but shut it again without saying anything. The Dark Man, meanwhile, turned and walked away. He knew that if things went as he planned, Demon’s decision would have no bearing on anything. It was time to visit Wisemon again.

***

Wisemon wrote at a furious pace. Occasionally he would stop to consult one of the tomes of his study, but the occurrence was becoming less and less frequent. The missing pieces of the puzzle the Book had presented to him had been assembled in this room, and it was only a matter now of putting them in their places. He could now look back on all his dim existence as a slow, groping climb to where he now stood in this universe, in all universes. Only a few days ago everything had been so diffuse, but then there had come that night in the moon-bathed desert when it had been as though a hand had reached down for his from the heavens, to end the tortuous climb and draw him up at a comet’s speed to a place among the stars. Now he understood.

Finally the pen came to a stop. There was nothing more to write, and for the first time, no more pages to be written on. The Book was complete.

From behind him came soft clapping.

“So it is done. I knew you wouldn’t let me down.”

Wisemon closed the Book, stood and turned.

“I am ready, Dark One. All that I am is at your disposal.”


	56. Assaults

_“‘My God!’ he had exclaimed, ‘think, think what you are saying. It is too incredible, too monstrous; such things can never be in this quiet world, where men and women live and die, and struggle, and conquer, or maybe fail, and fall down under sorrow, and grieve and suffer strange fortunes for many a year; but not this, Phillips, not such things as this. There must be some explanation, some way out of the terror. Why, man, if such a case were possible, our earth would be a nightmare.’” – Arthur Machen, “The Great God Pan”_

Mr. and Mrs. Ugaki had the most horrific awakening of their lives in the last hour of the night before dawn. There was screaming, bundled up in their minds that first moment with uneasy dreams and the terrible disturbance at the Searea apartments earlier. Chiho was not the type of girl to scream at anything, but they could recognize the cries as hers. Their daughter’s voice grew louder, loud enough to wake the neighbors. It sounded as though she were being murdered.

In no time they were both out of bed and at her door. Her father turned the doorknob and tried to enter, but the door remained immobile. Even pushing with all his strength he couldn’t budge it, while all the while Chiho’s voice carried on within, degenerating from screams to sobs of pain or horror. Mrs. Ugaki joined her husband in trying to open the door, and it suddenly gave way, leaving the frantic parents falling into the room.

There was a simultaneous sound of breaking glass and rent building material as the room’s window and a large chunk of the wall was blown outward. Neither parent was in much of a position to see anything, though they sensed a something hurtling through the broken wall, featureless in the dark. Scrambling to regain their balance, the Ugakis took in the sight of the room. The covers had been torn off Chiho’s bed along the wall, and she was still lying there, half undressed, crying and shuddering convulsively.

Mrs. Ugaki rushed to her daughter, though the girl didn’t seem to hear her hysterical questions. Mr. Ugaki turned his eyes in horror from the bed to the ruined wall, and screamed himself when he saw the bright eyes of the gargoyle figure peering over the balcony railing at him. The monster dropped out of sight immediately – Mr. Ugaki would not be sure later if in the terror of the moment he had really seen it, or heard the nauseating chuckle it left in its wake.

***

There was only one man who happened to be looking at the Odaiba Mansion from the street at that moment. In fact, he was watching it intently. There was no doubt in his mind that something was making its way swiftly down from Ugaki Chiho’s balcony, clutching the side of the apartment building and dropping from floor to floor, like a bat the size of a nightmare. Reaching the ground, the thing bounded over a low brick wall and headed towards him, growing larger in his vision faster than its speed could account for. Soon it was standing over him, its wings so small as to be invisible from the front, but the rest of its misshapen body half again as tall as he was.

“Thank you very much, great god, in fulfilling the request of mortals,” said the man, bowing much lower than a standard Japanese bow. He was a member of the group to which Sato belonged, a devoted disciple of Darkness.

“Thanks are greatly needed, human,” Panimon said. “Dagomon’s mouthpiece should have included any requests in the bargain we made.”

“My apologies. We—”

“Shut up,” the Digimon said, smacking the man with the back of one hand. It was a light blow for Panimon, but the man staggered under the force of it. Panimon chuckled. “How fortunate for you all that I’ve found so much to entertain me here.”

The man said nothing, only bowed again, with an involuntary shudder.

“Now…” Panimon continued, resting a huge hairy hand atop the human’s head. “That’s all, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is,” the man whispered. He could feel the thing’s furless fingers tickling the back of his neck – ribbed, like monstrous worms.

“Good!” Panimon said, shoving the human away from him. By the time the man regained his balance and looked up again the goat-headed creature was soaring off into the darkness of the waning night, a dwarfish satyr on vast black wings.

***

The day dawned with the citizens of Tokyo still worried, still in fear, but not in the panic of the previous morning. Besides the incident at the Searea apartments, there hadn’t been any large-scale displays of violence. Attacks like those of the previous night had been much sparser. To a certain extent, the Chosen Children shared in the general public’s cautious optimism. Koshiro, up before any of the others, had let his friends know that Gennai had had some success in narrowing down the location of the enemy base from anywhere in the Digital World to a specific region, and though the older Chosen would be remaining in the human world, all of them, without Ken, made their way to Odaiba Mansion. All were hoping against hope that the nightmare would be ended today.

But Koshiro’s and Jou’s spirits had already been somewhat dampened. In his message to the other D-Terminals, Koshiro had neglected to mention what had happened in his own apartment building the previous night. He didn’t know how he would have said it via mail, though he knew an explanation would be just as painful – more – in person.

They didn’t have all the details, but they had gathered enough. Ugaki Chiho’s parents had been taken in for questioning by the police, while Chiho herself was in the hospital. Information was slow to get out to the other inhabitants of the building, at least to the children, but obviously something terrible had happened, and Koshiro was tuned in to police communications. There were a number of reasons for his interest. Violent crime was rare in this part of the city, for one thing – there was every possibility of the enemy being behind this latest outrage. But there was also the fact that Koshiro and Jou knew Chiho as Iori’s girlfriend.

They waited for the others to arrive, Jou sitting silently on the bed with Gomamon while Koshiro sat at the computer, listening to police radio through headphones, trying to find out what had happened. For the most part Jou looked down at his feet, or at Gomamon whenever the little Digimon broke the silence. For a while Jou watched Koshiro’s face as the younger boy listened in. Koshiro’s expression was focused, and changed little, so soon Jou was back to staring at socks. The sound wasn’t up loud enough for him to hear anything; they hadn’t wanted Koshiro’s parents to know what they were concerned with.

Jou looked up again when he heard a sort of subdued gasp, a sound he knew to mean that Koshiro had come across new and upsetting information. Koshiro turned toward him, and Jou could see that his friend had gone pale.

“There were other girls last night,” Koshiro said.

“Other girls—” He stopped short. Other girls? Only girls? “…They were attacked?”

“They – they were…”

Before Koshiro finished the sentence his door opened. Iori stood there, Takeru and Miyako behind him, each holding his or her own Digimon. It was plain from their expressions that they knew there was bad news to hear – they must have seen the police tape. Though neither Koshiro nor Jou could detect it from where they sat, Iori was trembling. He had recognized the apartment.

“Iori-kun…”

“What happened?” Iori asked, his agitation cutting through the usual softness of his voice. “Chiho-chan—?”

“She… she’s alright, Iori-kun,” Jou said.

“She’s alive,” said Koshiro, almost at the same time. Only he noticed the distinction.

“She came to my apartment yesterday,” Iori said. His eyes were on the floor. “I wasn’t there. I didn’t know…”

“Don’t blame yourself, Iori-kun,” said Takeru. “We’ll find the one whose fault it is.” Iori was too preoccupied at the moment to notice Takeru’s own hard expression, his anger at injustice tempered by genuine pity, and the shadow of an equally genuine fear.

“Do we know it was the enemy who did it?” Miyako asked.

“We don’t,” said Koshiro, “But it seems to be a likely hypothesis. Either Lilithmon lied to us, or there’s something here that she doesn’t have any control over.”

“She probably just wanted us to let our guard down,” said Miyako angrily.

“Or another Digimon?” Takeru wondered.

“Whoever is behind the attacks,” Koshiro answered, “It’s probably a Digimon. The circumstances seem to point to something non-human.”

Before long the rest of the group was gathered, with the exception of Ken. Koshiro had sent him the coordinates for where to enter the Digital World, so that he could meet the others there without having to make the trip to Odaiba.

“So you do know where the enemy base is?” Daisuke asked, eager to get started.

“More Dark Towers have been appearing,” Koshiro said. “That’s not good, but at least it has helped Gennai and me to narrow down the area you have to search in.”

“I shouldn’t be going,” Iori whispered. “I should be here, looking for the person who hurt Chiho-chan.”

“No,” Takeru said, putting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “We’ll need you.”

“This’ll probably be even tougher than the fights we’ve been having,” said Miyako, looking pensive, another pair of downcast eyes.

“Well we’ve gotta do it,” said Daisuke. “It’s the only way to put a stop to everything.” Chibimon nodded emphatically.

“I wish I was going with you,” Taichi said. “But we’ll need to keep watch on this world while you’re gone. They’re still here.”

They needed no reminding. Iori’s fists were clenched so tight that they were beginning to ache, but he said nothing. Koshiro broke the silence that followed.

“Are you ready?”

Daisuke and the rest nodded.

“Be careful, Takeru,” Yamato said.

“We’ll come back,” Takeru said. “When this is over.” _Please still be here,_ he thought.

Taichi looked down into his sister’s eyes. He wouldn’t be able to follow her this time – now, when she may be about to plunge head-first into the darkness that had so often hounded her. He laid his hand on her shoulder, but didn’t say anything. His gaze was enough.

The five turned to face the Digital Gate, and held up their Digivices.

“The usual cheer, Miyako?” asked Daisuke.

She didn’t exactly cheer. It didn’t seem like it would suit the occasion. She pronounced the words carefully, without raising her voice.

“Digital Gate, open. Chosen Children…let’s go.”

Blue light washed over the room, and when it had faded the younger Chosen and their partners were gone.


	57. Things to Come

_“How is it that the very sunlight does not turn to blackness before this thing, the hard earth melt and boil beneath such a burden?” – Arthur Machen, “The Great God Pan”_

Yamato broke the silence.

“They’ve faced worse than this. They’ll be okay.”

“No one said they wouldn’t be,” said Taichi softly.

“Hey,” Mimi said, “What happened here? Chiho-chan is Iori-kun’s girlfriend, isn’t she?”

“We don’t have all the details,” said Koshiro. He leaned over the back of his chair and gazed into the Digital Gate on the computer screen, unsure of how to continue.

“You said there were others,” Jou reminded him. “There were other girls who were attacked.”

“Other girls…” Sora’s voice was low, and her eyes were distant. Whatever she was recalling having seen, she didn’t like it.

“They were assaulted,” Koshiro said, still not looking at his friends.

_Assaulted._ Why did that word seem so much more ominous? They all felt the difference. Sora was jolted back from her memory, and caught her left arm with her right hand, trying to suppress a shiver.

“It had to be a Digimon,” Koshiro continued. “There was too much damage done to the apartment for it to have been a human. Ugaki-san was younger than the others, but the police think that it’s all the same attacker.”

“Were they killed?” Yamato asked.

“No. They were…” He paused in obvious discomfort. But as it turned out he didn’t need to finish the sentence. One after another each face made the transition from ignorance to dark suspicion, to the horror of a dawning comprehension. Taichi stepped forward, his eyes fixed on his friend.

“Koshiro…”

“It’s why we had to remain behind,” Koshiro said, interrupting whatever was coming. “The enemy is still here, in the human world. We have to be there if it strikes again.”

“You say that,” Taichi said, “But how are we going to find it? How do we… How do we know that it’s still here?”

“I think it’s a safe assumption to make,” Koshiro replied. “And it’s an assumption we have to make to ensure that no one else here gets hurt.”

“That poor girl…” Mimi murmured. Jou turned to look at her. He had been as surprised as any of the others at what Koshiro had just avoided saying. Mimi looked numb, in shock, and he knew her expression mirrored his own.

“Mimi-kun…”

“What’s going on?” Gomamon asked. “What happened?”

“Something really bad?” Piyomon suggested.

Yamato’s eyes found Sora’s. He could see she wanted to talk, and he knew what the conversation would be about.

“It’s… hard to explain,” he said, addressing the Digimon in general. “We’ll talk about it later. Right now we need to find whatever attacked Chiho-chan.”

“I’m going to look through all the data on the attacks and see if I can find a pattern,” Koshiro resumed.

“We should get out there,” Taichi said. “You can send us mail through the D-Terminal if you figure anything out. Let’s go, Agumon!”

And with that he was out the door, his partner trailing behind him. There was really no point to his leaving. They had no idea where the enemy might strike next. But Koshiro understood that it was Taichi’s way of dealing with the stress. As long as he could stay in motion, could feel like he was doing something productive, he wouldn’t have time to worry, or think about the horrors surrounding them.

The other Chosen Children and Digimon said their goodbyes before heading out themselves, leaving Koshiro to work in peace. Yamato and Sora were the last out, and they lingered with Piyomon and Gabumon outside the Izumis’ door.

“They know so much about us,” Sora said, breaking the silence. Yamato said nothing. “Our families aren’t safe. If Iori’s girlfriend became a target, anyone we know could be in danger.”

“We’ll end this,” Yamato said. “We just… have to be on our guard.” He clenched his fists. It wasn’t that simple, and he knew it. Right now his brother and all of their younger friends were in the Digital World, walking into unknown danger, while a nightmare rapist and murderous demons stalked through Tokyo.

Piyomon was nuzzling her feathery head against Sora’s hand, and Gabumon looked up at his partner with sympathy. They didn’t know what to say to make things better. They just wanted their friends to know that they were there.

***

The Dark Man led the way through the base’s corridors, and Wisemon followed behind with the Book in his grasp. Anubimon was standing alone in a room just off the hall, hoping that they would pass by without bothering him, but he didn’t have high hopes. The Dark One always knew where to find someone, especially if they didn’t want to be found.

“Step out here, would you, Anubimon?” the Dark Man said, pausing just before the door. The Digimon reluctantly obeyed, and found his attention drawn to the person standing behind the Dark Man. He hadn’t been aware of Wisemon’s existence, and though he sensed no malice from him, he didn’t like the expressionless glow of the yellow eyes under the hood.

“I can open no more gates today,” Anubimon said. “My energy is spent.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said the Dark Man. “There’s only one gate that still needs opening, and you aren’t going to be the one to do it. This is Wisemon…” He lifted a hand to indicate the hooded Digimon. “…And he’s here to become your replacement.” The Dark Man resumed his walk, leaving Anubimon staring at his retreating back. “Well come on!” the Dark One shouted. “Allow us to escort you home.”

Anubimon followed, trying to understand what he meant. Was it another joke? “Home” would be where the Dark Man had found him, the pyramid and temple in the wastes of desert. Anubimon had dwelt there for countless years, staring down into the darkness and passing judgment on the data that found its way there after each death and deletion. He had been the jailor of some, the savior of others. It had been his gift to know what each deserved – rebirth at the Village of Beginnings, or eternal burial in the World of Darkness.

At least, those burials should have been eternal. Anubimon’s gaze was far-reaching, but he was not omniscient, and there had been several times that things had slipped through the cracks. Perhaps the Dark Man had first crept out into the light that way, but Anubimon doubted it. Whatever the Dark Man was, he didn’t resemble any known inhabitant of the Digital World.

Now Anubimon saw the portal over the Dark Man’s shoulder, and through it the great gray pyramid wavering in the distance. But why? Under other circumstances, Anubimon might perhaps have felt relief at the sight of his former home, but at that moment he felt only a growing unease as he watched the stone walls sway, and heard the Dark One’s low chuckling.

***

The ocean’s boundaries were lost in fog. If it had boundaries. Sometimes it seemed as if the land was as fluid as the water, present at times, absent at others, the shoreline never the same. Or that could be a mere trick of the fog, hanging thick and opaque. Occasionally the fog would move, without wind, creeping into one’s field of vision and dissolving the world as if it had never existed. Creeping, creeping into the mind and fastening itself in the darker corners like a disease.

There were no waves, not usually. They were there when they were needed. They could be heard while remaining invisible, a reminder to anyone who had tried to forget that the Dark Ocean was always back there somewhere, lapping greedily at the borders of reality. If the need arose there might be a real wave, something sudden, cold, powerful, and tangible, something to shock the sea’s prey into a panic. …But you couldn’t count on the ocean to be like anything. Two people could be standing side by side and their perceptions would still differ widely. Perhaps there was no ocean – just an idea too insidious for expression.

It mattered little to Demon. Nothing ever much impressed him. He had come to this World of Darkness vast ages ago, after being cast out from the Digital World that he had sought to conquer. There was no demon or fallen angel more powerful; his arrogance was well-founded. 

Still, his recent mysterious visitor had intrigued him. Rather than wait for the nameless man’s reappearance, Demon had returned to this ocean, the site of his last temporary defeat, to verify that the man was indeed an agent of the High Priest. Stretching out a hand, he let fall a black orb into the murky water below. It submerged without a sound, but the surface rippled.

“Come out, minions of Dagomon. I have business with your master.”

As he spoke the fog above the water’s surface seemed to thin out, revealing the spine of a great reef. From its crevices emerged Dagomon’s black, oily worshippers, their unblinking eyes turned up to the hooded figure looming above them. One, larger than the others, and crowned with longer spines, gestured with its claws as it answered.

“Our god knows what you have come seeking.”

“Your so-called god should know better than to trifle with me. What does he want? Surely he didn’t think that I would be so stupid as not to question his motives.”

“The Chosen Ones’ power continues to grow,” the amphibious creature answered in its hollow tone. “If the light is to be overcome, many must band against it.”

“Ridiculous,” Demon sneered. “I need no assistance against children. So Dagomon is both fool and coward. He has his duties, and he should stick to them, and stay out of my business and out of my way.”

He turned to go, but stopped as the Deep One spoke again.

“The future will reveal who are fools, Demon. You may be surprised by what it brings.”

Demon rounded on the reef, and the black creatures instinctively crouched.

“You dare to speak that way to me?” A flick of the Demon Lord’s wrist and the speaker on the reef was engulfed in flames, screeching as it burned away to nothing. “Nothing that dies so easily should take me lightly! **Flame Inferno!** ”

The amphibious creatures scattered, diving into the water if they were near enough, the others being incinerated. Demon turned away as the reef caught fire and began to burn, the smoke of it darkening the already gray skies.

“Don’t test me, Dagomon,” he muttered. “Anyone who meddles in my affairs will not have long to live.”

A pool of purple opened at his feet and Demon sank into it, leaving only his threat behind as the portal closed.

His words could have been heard only above the surface, but his malicious thoughts sank downwards through the ripples that played about the burning reef, through the crushing fathoms of dark water and abysses immeasurable, to a place where no glimmer of light had ever reached or ever would reach. And in that blackness, something heard and understood.


	58. The Entrance

_“The party at the stone building would accept these respective signals in an analogous manner; forcing an entrance at the first, and at the second descending whatever passage into the ground might be discovered, and joining the general or focal warfare expected to take place within the caverns.” – H. P. Lovecraft,_ The Case of Charles Dexter Ward

If it wasn’t for their faith in Koshiro and Gennai, the Chosen Children might have thought that the program had made a mistake. It was hard to imagine a more innocuous landscape than the one which waited for them on the other side of the Digital Gate. Groves of trees were scattered across grassy, gently rolling hills, and a slow-flowing river wound its way across the land. There was no sinister fortress to darken the scene, or other buildings of any kind. It was very quiet. There were no Digimon in sight. Ken and Stingmon had arrived shortly before the others did, but they had nothing to report.

“No,” Hikari said, looking up from her D-Terminal. “He thinks it was coming from here the whole time.”

“But then,” Miyako asked, “Where is everybody? Could they really have a base here? There’s nothing around.”

“Unless there’s something underground, like there was at Kingsport,” Takeru said.

“So what then,” said Miyako, “We have to go looking for holes in the ground? It could take forever in an area this big.” She knew that either Gennai’s program had failed, or Takeru was right. She didn’t know which she would prefer. Yes, they needed to end this, but the thought of going underground reminded her of the last night’s dream, the taste of dirt in her mouth.

“Maybe there’s some kind of entrance, hidden by the trees,” Ken suggested.

“Alright,” Takeru said. “We’ll start looking. No one go too far.” He looked about him, trying to think of where danger might come from. His gaze happened across Iori, the younger boy looking down at the ground, not really seeing anything. Obviously his mind was still on Chiho. “Iori-kun, maybe you and Submarimon could check the river.”

Iori gave a little start, realized what had been said, and found his voice. “Y-yes. Come on, Armadimon.”

“Alright,” Takeru continued, looking to the others. “Let’s start looking.”

He saw their expressions. There was tiredness there. The fear had faded into the background somewhat in these idyllic surroundings, but they were tired, worn out from constant battle and nightmares. He knew without asking that their nights had been as rough as his. “We’ll find these people, and we’ll stop them,” he added, a hard edge to his voice.

***

The region was small enough that there was no need to pair off. Each of the Digimon evolved in some manner and went their own way with their partner, checking individual groves or searching the horizon. Iori and Submarimon scanned the river bottom, and every once in a while the boy would ask some question or remind his partner not to go too far downstream. The riverbed was different from the shadowy oceans Iori had been seeing in his dreams, but after a long period of silence he would have to say something, just to make sure that Submarimon was still there. It was a childish thing to take comfort in, but he needed it. Besides, silence made him think of Chiho, made him ponder against his will on what exactly had happened to her in the night.

Miyako and Hikari took to the air with Holsmon and Nefertimon, but it wasn’t much more instructive than being on the ground; all it really showed them was just how deserted the area was. There weren’t even any Dark Towers in sight. Hikari didn’t know what to expect, or what to hope for, but while she looked for anything out of place her real focus was on avoiding thoughts of her last dream. She paid close attention to the way the sun felt on her shoulders, and the freshness of the air’s scent. It was a surreal experience, that search. Everything seemed so pleasant, but all the while they were hunting for some unknown foulness in the background.

Daisuke accompanied Lighdramon, the two of them never staying for long in one place, but constantly on the move, looking groves and hills over in rapid succession.

“Daisuke,” Lighdramon said at one point, “Are you feeling okay?”

“Uh… Yeah, why?”

“You were real quiet just now. That’s not like you.”

The truth was that Daisuke was a little preoccupied. He had remembered his dream from the moment he woke up. Was it one of _those_ dreams? It hadn’t been scary… well, maybe a little scary in places, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He’d seen Nat-chan again, and it had felt so real at the time, with the cold digging deeply into him. He didn’t have dreams all that often, but he was familiar enough with them to know that last night’s had been different.

“I had a dream,” he said aloud. “About Nat-chan.”

He hadn’t really planned on saying anything about it, but problems were easier to deal with once you brought them out into the open, and of his friends living in Japan only his partner had been there with him. He’d never said much to anyone else about the New York trip. It wasn’t his nature to avoid discussions, but there was something about that one topic that made the thought of going into it with the others uncomfortable. Above all he was strangely glad that Hikari had never gotten any of the details.

“Was it fun?” Lighdramon asked.

“What? No it wasn’t fun, stupid!” Daisuke said, angry at a question he hadn’t expected.

“So it was a bad dream then.”

“I don’t know, it’s none of your business.” There was a moment’s pause before he added, “Ahh… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lose my cool. Yeah, it was kind of a bad dream, like New York all over again.”

“I see something,” Lighdramon said, interrupting. Daisuke looked up and saw it too, some kind of building partially hidden at a place where the trees were thicker.

“Is this it?” he asked, excited. His face fell a little when he saw that what they had found was just a little house. It sure didn’t look anything like an enemy base.

“You think someone lives here?” his partner asked.

“I don’t know. Let’s go see.”

He walked up to one of the windows and pressed his face up against the glass. There wasn’t much he could see from outside, though. There were no lights on, and he couldn’t make out anything in detail. “We’ll try the door,” he said, running around to the front of the bungalow. The doorknob wouldn’t turn, and no one answered at Daisuke’s knock. He looked at Lighdramon and shrugged just as Ken stepped out of the trees and into the house’s undefined yard.

“You found something, Motomiya-kun?”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s home.”

After calling for Stingmon, Ken inspected the door for himself, and confirmed that it wouldn’t budge.

“Maybe we should break in,” Lighdramon suggested.

“Yeah, but what if someone lives here?” Daisuke asked.

“Whatever we do, we should check inside somehow,” Ken said. “We haven’t seen anything else around here. At least, maybe there are clues.”

“Alright,” said Stingmon, extending the blade from his wrist. **“Spiking Finish!”**

The attack cut right through the doorknob, and the door fell open, revealing a house devoid of interior walls and furniture, the floor covered in tiles. The only object of any interest was a large basin, something like a birdbath, situated at the center of the single room. Daisuke and Ken entered the house as their partners watched them from the door.

“That’s weird…” Daisuke said.

Ken was looking thoughtfully at the basin. They were looking for a place that was probably underground. Could it possibly… Yes. Setting both hands against the thing and giving it a strong push, Ken was able to shift the basin a little bit, and the boys could see the opening beneath it.

“We’ve found it,” Ken said softly, his eyes fixed on the crescent of blackness at his feet.

***

Sato Katsu had been watching the control room screen for a long while, watching the Chosen Children mill around on the surface. It was plain that they had come for a reason, though he had no idea how they had found the place. But that didn’t matter at the moment. He watched silently until the six colored dots began to converge on the little structure that hid the entrance tunnel to the complex in which he sat. Then—

“They’re here,” he said. There was no response. After a few seconds he turned around and saw that the room was empty except for him. Where was the Dark Man? Surely he already knew what was happening. Sato scowled and turned back to the panel in front of him. If necessary, he was prepared to handle things without the Dark Man’s help. It was only the work of a moment to redirect a small percentage of the power from the generators from the well in his shrine and into other devices.

“Digimentals of Courage and Love,” he murmured, bringing up his options with a few keystrokes. “I must congratulate you, Chosen Children. You’ve exceeded my expectations. Your predecessors would be proud.” He input a few final commands and then began walking from the room. “But now you’ve made a mistake.”


	59. The Door to Winter

_“O, but dolorous, dolorous, are all the ways of man, few and fierce are his days, and the end trouble, and vain, vain his endeavor: and woman – who shall tell of it? – her doom is written with man’s by listless, careless gods with their faces to other spheres. Somewhat thus he began, and then inspiration seized him, and all the trouble in the beauty of his song may not be set down by me: there was much of gladness in it, and all mingled with grief: it was like the way of man: it was like our destiny.” – Lord Dunsany, “The Quest of the Queen’s Tears”_

Unsurprisingly, it was Daisuke who took the lead as they descended into the unknown. Having shoved the basin entirely off the circular entrance he found a ladder, and climbed down it as his friends reminded him to be careful. The ladder was not a long one, and about ten feet down his feet found solid stone. The light filtering in from above showed him that the ladder was practically up against a wall, though the room or hall stretched away from it in the other direction, into blackness.

“It’s okay!” he called up to V-mon, whose head was hanging over the hole. “Come on down, guys.”

The Digimon hopped down and the humans made their way more slowly, until all twelve of the group were standing clustered about the foot of the ladder. Reluctantly they turned to face the tunnel ahead.

“Stay close,” Takeru said.

They slowly began walking, leaving behind the ladder and the bright world it led to. Miyako was thinking about how horrible it would be for the stone basin to grind slowly back into place, and just as Ken was passing out of the light from above she took his hand suddenly, without thinking. Even through her glove she could feel how cold it was. Ken hesitated an instant before continuing on, but he did not pull away.

The tunnel seemed to run on forever, the floor sloping shallowly downward, until the Chosen had lost all conception of depth and distance. There was no light, and no sounds to be heard other than their footfalls. Maybe they had come to the wrong place. Surely nothing could be living in a hole like this, at least nothing human. But there was no other explanation for its existence, so they kept on, unspeaking, thinking of what might be in front of them, and what was behind them.

Finally there was a change. They realized that they could see again, faintly. The end of the tunnel came into sight, an arched doorway leading into a wider room. Entering it they found a large rectangular chamber of bluish stone, with a number of arches and doorways branching off along the walls.

“Which way do we go, Daisuke?” V-mon asked. The group stood at the center of the room, evaluating their options.

“Let’s—” Daisuke began, but before he could finish his thought the room was flooded from every direction with silent yellow-furred forms. There was no warning, preamble, or semblance of a strategic attack. The Hanumon simply rushed forward, some raising their rods of bone or clawed hands while others came on all fours, hopping and scurrying.

In the ensuing chaos there was no time for reflection or even for evolution. Takeru and Hikari instinctively jumped out of the way as a Hanumon’s club smashed into the floor between them. A simian fist crashed into Armadimon’s face as he leapt to his hind legs with a vague idea of defending Iori. V-mon launched himself head-first into a furry stomach as Daisuke ducked out of the way of clutching hands.

**“Air Shot!”  
“Neko Punch!”  
“Sticky Net!”**

To tell the truth, the unexpected assault had spooked them all. There was no way they were going to survive against so many Adult Digimon, and instinctively the Chosen Children made for the passages coming off the room as their partners covered them. But the Chosen Digimon couldn’t hold out for long, and were soon forced to retreat, following their partners down whichever tunnel they had wound up in as the Hanumon gave chase without a sound.

***

It had happened a few weeks earlier. Daisuke was over at Taichi’s apartment, the first time he saw his senior after the loss of the district tournament. He’d already spent a couple days in his own apartment, in a funk, playing video games because he wasn’t quite ready to face his mentor, or anyone else, for that matter, after such an embarrassing defeat. Being around his family, whose opinions he didn’t much respect, was bad enough. His parents hardly made any reference to it, but they didn’t offer any condolences when they did. Jun nagged at him for being lazy and not getting out of the apartment. And he had come to hate more than dislike Caprimon, whose metal cones hummed extra loudly whenever she had a sudden craving for snacks. He could have sworn she did it on purpose just to annoy him.

In fact, it was probably Caprimon that eventually drove him out of the apartment, or at least in combination with his own tendency to remain active. Taichi was the first person he visited, out of a vague sense of obligation. He didn’t expect sympathy, and he got very little.

“I heard about the competition,” Taichi said, sprawled out on the sofa. “I don’t know if you weren’t taking it seriously, or what.”

“Come on, Taichi-san! Of course I was serious.”

Still, he didn’t have another excuse for a 6-0 loss on the very first game. The conversation didn’t go anywhere. Eventually Taichi turned on the television, and they sat in bored silence.

“Hikari-chan isn’t here,” Daisuke said, not really asking. She would have been polite enough to say hello if she was.

“No, she’s out with Tailmon. They went bicycling.”

“They’ve been gone a long time, haven’t they?”

“I guess. Maybe they ran into someone.”

Almost on cue the door opened, framing Hikari, who stepped inside and began removing her shoes as Tailmon bounded in.

“Ah! Hikari-chan!”

“Hello, Daisuke-kun,” she said, looking up. Apparently she hadn’t noticed him when she opened the door.

“How was it?” Taichi asked.

“It was fun.”

“The weather is nice,” Tailmon said.

Hikari agreed, adding, “And we met Takeru-kun playing basketball near the school.”

“So that’s what took so long,” Taichi said.

“Did you – did you plan on meeting?” Daisuke asked.

“Huh? No, it was a coincidence,” she replied. “Oh, I heard about your game, Daisuke-kun. I’m sorry you didn’t win.”

“…Yeah.”

Taichi looked in Daisuke’s direction, but said nothing. Tailmon followed Hikari into her room. Daisuke looked down at his feet, feeling suddenly restless. With the crisis in the Digital World over, his goals were fewer and farther between, and his boredom had been growing as he went back to a life without struggle. There hadn’t been a real fight since March, when Armagemon showed up. Not that he wanted anything bad to happen; he just didn’t like feeling so useless. The closest he came to that old feeling was playing soccer or playing his video games, like the Monster Quest RPG where he had named his party members Daisuke, Hikari, and V-mon.

Hikari-chan was part of his dissatisfaction, or rather the lack of her. She never did anything with him anymore, though in his mind it seemed like she was always hanging out with Takeru. At least this summer they hadn’t taken a vacation together, like when they went to New York in 2002. Sure, Mimi had been with them, but just the two of them going to America? Without their family members or friends or anything? Who did that without it meaning something?

She was always nice to him, but he was just one friend out of many. Takeru was… well, what the hell was he?

It was when Taichi excused himself to go to the bathroom that Daisuke made his sudden decision. He got up and paused outside Hikari’s door. It was standing open, but even so it didn’t feel right at the moment to go on in. Had he ever even been in her room? He came over here more often than the Yagamis went to his place, but…

“Hey… Hikari-chan?”

“Yes, Daisuke-kun?” she responded, coming to the door and holding it open so she could see him.

“I was wondering, if, uh, maybe sometime, like tomorrow, if we could go to the beach or something?”

“The beach?” Her face was blank for a moment, then lit up in a smile. “Ah, who’s going?”

“Well, I meant, just we would go.”

“Just us? You don’t think we’d get… bored?”

“No,” he said, smiling. “I’m never bored when I’m with you.”

He didn’t know what reaction he was expecting. Maybe a smile, one of those upward turnings of the mouth that brightened the whole world, or maybe she would even say something – _That’s so sweet, Daisuke-kun._ But she didn’t. All he got was that blank expression again, the studied picture of bemusement as opposed to surprise.

It wasn’t long after that he made his plans to visit New York. She wouldn’t say so, but Hikari-chan didn’t want to go to the beach with him. Everyone had something else to do; even Iori had a girlfriend now. So Daisuke took a vacation. Hikari and Takeru had gone to America last year, maybe to get away from him. Well, this time he would get away from them.

***

V-mon and Tailmon hurried towards their partners down the hallway, followed by the sounds of the Hanumon hitting themselves with their own bones under the spell of Cat’s Eye.

“Where are the others?” Hikari asked.

“They must have gone a different way,” Tailmon answered.

“Alright!” Daisuke said. “We’ll break through the enemy and meet up with them!”

“Leave it to me, Daisuke!” V-mon said, turning around when Hikari cried out for him to wait.

“Why?” Daisuke asked.

“There’s too many,” Tailmon answered for her partner. “It may be quicker to find another way.”

Daisuke made a frustrated sound and hesitated.

“Come on, Daisuke-kun,” Hikari said. “There’s no room for evolution here.”

“Ahh…! – Fine, let’s go. Come on, V-mon!”

The four made their way farther down the hall, turning into another hallway that seemed like it might lead back around to their friends. _Here I am again,_ Daisuke thought, the memories of that day flashing disjointedly through his mind, _Doing whatever Hikari-chan wants to do._


	60. The Generators

_“What the thing was, he would never tell. It was like some of the carvings on the hellish altar, but it was alive. Nature had never made it in this form, for it was too palpably unfinished. The deficiencies were of the most surprising sort, and the abnormalities of proportion could not be described.” – H. P. Lovecraft,_ The Case of Charles Dexter Ward

Takeru had stopped when a backward glance showed him that Iori was behind him, rushing to catch up as the Hanumon gained on him. Takeru couldn’t see Armadimon at first, but—

**“Rolling Stone!”**

Iori’s partner came shooting up the hallway, knocking one of the Hanumon out of his way, causing it to fall into another and upset its balance. But a third leapt forward, determined to get its paws on Iori. Patamon intercepted it, smacking it in the face with his wings. It was enough to stop the Hanumon’s forward momentum, but with a fluid motion it snatched the bone from its back and whipped it into its opponent, knocking the little Digimon to the floor.

“Patamon!”

Takeru knelt to examine the damage. Iori had come up with him by that time, and stopped running, looking back at the Hanumon. The simian Digimon were advancing more slowly now, on their hind legs, either because they were wary of being attacked again or, more likely, were confident now that their targets didn’t have the agility to escape. But whatever the reason, the decision would cost them.

**“Digimental Up!”**

**“Armadimon, Armor Evolve! … Steel Knowledge, Digmon!”**

“Get back, dagyaa. **Big Crack!”**

Takeru scooped up Patamon and together he and Iori retreated farther along the hallway. Behind them Digmon slammed his drills into the floor with force enough to send fissures shooting across the stone. The foremost Hanumon had readied its bone to strike, but the floor gave out beneath it, and it tumbled into a crevasse that left a two-meter gap in the center of the hall.

“Come on, Digmon!”

Iori’s partner turned to heed the call, but behind him one of the Hanumon began to glow. Red light played over its body. It started to tremble and clench its fists. Then in one rapid motion it leaned backward and thrust its upper body forward. Hundreds of stiffened hairs were flung into Digmon’s back, some bouncing off while others embedded themselves in the hard shell like needles.

Digmon gave a cry of surprise and turned around in time to see the rest of the Hanumon follow the example of the first. He staggered back under the bombardment of the hairs, but was more inconvenienced than hurt. Shaking off the pain, he raised his drills again.

**“Gold Rush!”**

The barrage of rocket-propelled drills slammed into the walls and ceiling of the tunnel, exploding on impact. Large chunks of rubble were blasted loose, choking the way. There were still no sounds from the Hanumon beyond the pile of debris and great pit, but the Chosen Children had a feeling that their pursuers would not be able to overcome both obstacles.

“Let’s go,” Takeru said. “We need to find the others.” He looked down at the fuzzy Digimon in his arms. “Are you okay, Patamon?”

“Yeah… I’ll be fine.” Even so, he made no effort to get out of Takeru’s embrace, and was carried down the hall as the group started moving again.

“Be more careful, Digmon,” Iori said, jogging as his partner kept pace with him. “You could have brought the whole ceiling down.”

“Sorry, Iori. But at least it worked.”

“Even if you say that…”

He left the sentence unfinished as he and Takeru put their focus on what was in front of them. It wasn’t long before they had come to a place where another hallway branched off from the one they were in, and they stopped in momentary indecision. Takeru didn’t have a good idea of where the rest of their friends had wound up. He remembered that Hikari had been to his left, but right now their choices were between straight on or right.

“We shouldn’t split up any more,” Iori said.

“Right…” Takeru looked from one tunnel to the other, noticing that the one they were following was wider than the new option. He made an angry grunt in his throat. “We’ll go straight,” he said at last. “This may lead to somewhere important.” No one gave a dissenting opinion, and the four of them continued on.

Turning a corner, they saw that the hall had come to an end, terminating at what seemed to be an immense room. The exact size was difficult to judge because of the large machines that filled it, arranged in rows. Takeru had never seen anything like them before. In shape they were close to being cylindrical, made of a dark-tinted metal. Black pipes ran out of them and into the floor. Dimly the Chosen Children and their Digimon could remember walking over similar pipes on their way in.

They didn’t take time to make a minute study of the machines, however; instead they were focused on listening. The sounds had first reached them as they turned the corner. They were sounds that demanded pity, but when the Chosen heard them, tense as they were, and in such menacing surroundings, their first reaction was horror. The sounds were varied – whines and groans, and muted screams that went on forever – but their power to shock lay not in what they were but in what could be felt behind them. “Despair” was the most succinct way to describe it – sounds made in the agony of knowing that they were all that was left to the beings making them.

“What… what is it, Takeru-san?” Iori asked, his eyes wide.

“I don’t know,” Takeru answered. He hesitated for a moment, then stepped cautiously forward. “Who’s there?”

He hadn’t meant to yell, but fear raised the volume of his voice, and it echoed in the vast chamber. Immediately the other sounds ceased, to be replaced by a silence that listened.

“Takeru, you’re hurting me,” Patamon said. Takeru relaxed his grip; he hadn’t realized that he was squeezing so tightly.

“Be careful, Iori,” Digmon said, stepping in front of his partner, drills at the ready.

“Hello?” Takeru moved forward again, cautiously. The stillness was preferable to the sounds, but still unsettling, especially in their wake. It occurred to him that they might be walking into a trap. He had no idea why what they had heard would have been a part of such a trap, but if the goal was to scare them, as the nightmares scared them, then it had certainly been successful.

His steps had soon taken him up to the nearest of the cylindrical machines. He started violently when it emitted a sudden pneumatic hiss, part of its metal surface popping outwards and sliding upwards to reveal a transparent tube beneath it. Patamon jumped out of Takeru’s arms and began flapping, as surprised by his partner’s movement as that of the machine. He didn’t get a good look at what was now exposed because something above him drew his attention.

But as for Takeru, all his focus was on the contents of the machine. There was an object floating near eye level in some kind of clear liquid. For the most part it was a tangled mess of red and blue, but he could tell that it had once been an Elecmon. Large chunks of its body were missing, and he could see to its center where a syringe-like attachment at the end of a hose was embedded in the Digimon’s cracked, spherical core. In many places the parts of its body that were left were twisted or discolored. The flesh bubbled where it was thickest, and its edges seemed eaten away as if by acid. The entirety quivered, and while the right eye was an empty hole, the left was fixed on Takeru. The mouth moved, ragged in places like a chipped glass.

_“Please…”_

Takeru’s hands clenched spasmodically. He wanted to close his eyes but they were too busy widening, taking in details that they didn’t want to. And out from the back of his mind came creeping one of his recent dreams, his partner in pain, unending pain. The Elecmon groaned loudly, and the sound was answered from many of the other machines in a multitude of agonized voices.

“Takeru!”

“Patamon!” he yelled back, looking around for his Digimon.

“ _Takeru!_ ” “ _Patamon!_ ”

It took Takeru a while to realize that Patamon hadn’t spoken again, because at first he didn’t register hearing his own voice being used by something else. He spotted Patamon above him, body inflated with air as he readied his attack, but higher up he could see the dark shapes descending from the ceiling, wings flapping. They were bats, made monstrous by their immense size and the sickles that terminated their several appendages.

**“Air Shot!”**

One of the things was blown back a bit, but was otherwise unharmed, and its fellows kept still came forward, repeating, “ _Air Shot, Air Shot!_ ”

**“Gold Rush!”**

One of Digmon’s drills found its target, the creature dropping out of the air and caroming off the top of one of the machines, but the others managed to avoid his attack entirely. “ _Gold Rush!_ ” they cried in his voice, tittering maniacally at their imitation. One of them dove directly towards Iori’s partner, screeching in its own voice.

**“Crazy Sonic!”**

The thing screamed, a sound so intense that it could be seen, shooting towards Digmon like rings of light. He managed to jump back out of the way, but even so the echoes when the attack hit the floor nearly deafened him and Iori.

Aloft, another of the creatures sliced at Patamon with a sickle claw, missing its target by inches.

“Takeru, I have to evolve!”

“ _Have to evolve, evolve!_ ” They tittered hysterically.

Takeru reached for his Digivice, and had trouble getting a hold on it, he was shaking so badly after the sight of the Elecmon. And even once he had it, it wouldn’t light up. “Patamon—! Patamon, evolve!” Was normal evolution not possible here? There were no Dark Towers in this place, but there was Darkness everywhere, he felt as though he were choking on it.

One of the giant bats buffeted Patamon with its wing, and one of his own wings, which had been clipped by the Hanumon’s bone, gave out. Takeru was about to call upon the power of the Digimental when it happened, but the sight of Patamon falling made him break off and run to be there to catch his partner. On either side of him as he ran he could hear the hissing of the machines, their motion detectors sensing him, leading them to reveal their grisly contents, the tortured forms of Digimon crying out for mercy.

***

A balcony overlooked the generator room at one end, and Sato Katsu stood there in shadow, watching the battle below with intensity. This was the worst place for a confrontation of this kind; the fighting might damage the generators. He wondered where Yagami and the others were. It would be best for his artificial Digimon to intercept them before they reached this point. So far, at least, no damage had been done, and Takaishi’s Digimon was wounded. If things continued as they were, it would be a very fruitful day indeed. 


	61. Wandering

_“Several times during his progress the glow ahead diminished perceptibly, and he realised that the various candles and lamps he had left must be expiring one by one. The thought of being lost in utter darkness without matches amidst this underground world of nightmare labyrinths impelled him to rise to his feet and run…” – H. P. Lovecraft,_ The Case of Charles Dexter Ward

Hikari and the others hadn’t seen another living thing since leaving the gang of Hanumon behind. The underground halls were empty, and they had yet to find one which would lead them to their friends. They really had no idea of where they were going, and all of the passages and rooms were beginning to look the same when all at once they turned a corner and found a long flight of stairs, the first they had seen in the base, going down to some still lower level. Down the center of the stairs ran several black pipes or tubes which disappeared under a heavy door of dark wood.

“This could be something important, Daisuke,” said V-mon.

“Yes,” Tailmon said, taking in the sight. “This place seems different.”

She meant that in more than one sense. Architecturally the place stood out from the other parts of the base that they had seen, but there was something else odd about it. It was colder.

“V-mon and I will go first,” she added as an afterthought.

The Digimon started down the stairs, and their partners followed behind them. Unconsciously all four stayed to the sides of the stairs, never setting their foot down on one of the sunken pipes. Hikari had made it part of the way down when she stopped, watching Tailmon and V-mon continue their descent. Daisuke stopped too, and glanced at her, hoping she would say something, but her thoughts were elsewhere.

Because something was wrong. There was an unpleasant sensation in the back of her consciousness. It was something familiar, and it was little use to tell herself that it was just her nerves and imagination. She didn’t like the feel of this staircase, or the look of the black pipes in the floor, or the door that they led to.

V-mon and Tailmon paused at the foot of the staircase, but if they were expecting anything to happen they were disappointed.

“Alright,” V-mon said, shaking off a shiver, “I’ll get it open.”

Hikari said nothing as V-mon prepared to launch himself forward. She wanted to tell him to stop, that this was a door they shouldn’t open with just the four of them, but something kept her from speaking. She knew there was something frightening behind that door, but even so it drew her. It… called to her. Her eyes went wide with realization and she opened her mouth, but too late.

**“V-mon Head!”**

Daisuke’s partner struck the door and jumped back as it swung open under the impact. Beyond it the room was one of polished black stone, and the dark-colored pipes all but vanished as they met it. From her vantage point Hikari couldn’t see what else the room might contain, but seeing wasn’t necessary. There was a sound she heard with her mind, the vast rolling of midnight tides.

“Let’s go back, Daisuke-kun!”

“Why?” he asked, surprised. He had watched her expression change but didn’t know the reason for it.

“It’s… it’s not safe.”

“There’s something weird in here, Daisuke!” V-mon called up, looking into the room. Tailmon stood beside him, her head twisted round so that she could see her partner.

“It’s okay,” Daisuke said to Hikari. “I’m here.”

“Daisuke!”

V-mon was growing agitated. That room and its black well gave him the creeps. Tailmon felt the same unease – her fur was near to standing on end – but at the moment she was more concerned for Hikari.

“Just a second!” Daisuke yelled to V-mon. “What’s the matter, Hikari-chan?”

“I can’t go in there,” she said, though she knew that in a moment of weakness she might be unable to resist. The darkness called to her, insistent, relentless, urging her to be drawn out of the world of light and submerged, consumed.

“But… it’s just a room,” Daisuke said. It was as he said it that he caught the first hint of what the others already felt, and he turned his head a little to look down at the open door. “…isn’t it?”

For a moment he faltered, but he immediately realized it and snapped his gaze back to Hikari. How was he going to reassure her if he didn’t believe what he was saying?

“Don’t you trust me?”

“We should go back,” she said, not looking at him, her eyes fixed on the doorway and the blackness beyond. “We need to find Takeru and the others.”

“Why!?” Daisuke blurted out, catching Takeru’s name. Then he realized how stupid and selfish that must sound, and his anger died. He wanted to find the others too, and make sure they were okay, but Hikari-chan was here now, and couldn’t she feel confident in him, just a little bit? “Hikari-chan… I…”

“Hikari’s right,” Tailmon said. “We should find the others. If we need to we can come back to this place later.”

“Yeah,” Daisuke said quietly, face downcast. “Yeah, alright.”

V-mon watched his partner sadly, but wasn’t about to make any objection to following Tailmon up the stairs and out of that darker, colder place to the upper basement.

Hikari turned and started up the stairs again, trying to keep her pace measured as her friends followed. She hadn’t gone far when a sudden impression came to her. She didn’t hear anything, but she felt something whisper her name. She stopped for a moment, bringing her hands up to hold her head.

“No,” she whispered, low enough that none of the others heard her. “Leave me alone.” She lost her self-control then, and ran up the rest of the stairs as fast as she could manage. Below her Daisuke picked up his own pace, and he could hear their partners do the same. His expression was pained, irritated. No battle had been fought, no enemy grappled with. But seeing her run up those stairs, away from him, Daisuke felt as if here he had been defeated.

***

The tunnels in this part of the complex were somewhere between dark and pitch-black. Ken didn’t expect that he, Wormmon, Miyako, and Hawkmon were in much danger of running into the enemy here – the combination of the darkness and the thick dust on the floor suggested that the tunnels had not been in use for some time, whatever they had originally been created for. But what they lacked in physical peril they made up for in eeriness. He knew that they were walking through a lair of some monstrous evil, built for an unknown but sinister purpose, hiding beneath the beauty of the upper world like an ancient corpse in a brilliant sarcophagus. He felt that even if he didn’t know all of that for a fact, it would still have been possible to intuitively sense it.

Ken peered into the darkness ahead of him. Was each passage darker than the last? He couldn’t trust his vision in this place; it kept playing tricks on him. Once it seemed like there were eyes hanging in the black air in front of him, huge, unblinking, but it must have been an illusion. None of the others gave any indication that they had seen anything, and the impression faded as Ken steeled himself and continued forward.

When Ken and Miyako had first emerged from the entrance tunnel into the lighted part of the base, they’d noticed that they were still holding hands, and released them, suddenly embarrassed. But they had still been standing together when the Hanumon attacked, and they had managed to wind up together in the confusion without being separated from their Digimon. Wormmon’s silk-based attacks had slowed down the Hanumon, but certainly did not stop them, and coming into another room wider than the hallways Ken had stopped and stood his ground, his D-3 allowing Wormmon to Armor Evolve to Pucchiemon.

Heartener Beam had arced across the room, stopping the ape Digimon in their tracks as it removed their will to fight. The Chosen hadn’t stayed around to see whether the effects would wear off, but instead followed one of the tunnels out of the room hoping that it would help them to reunite quickly with the others. It hadn’t.

“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Ken said, his frustration evident in his whispered words.

“Then… should we go back?” Miyako asked.

“If we could even find our way back in this darkness,” Hawkmon said.

“Well – well we have to get out of here somehow, right?” Miyako said, the first traces of panic starting to enter her voice.

“Please, be more quiet, Miyako-san,” Hawkmon urged. “We don’t want the enemy to find us.”

“Well it’s better than being lost isn’t it? I don’t want to be left here to rot!”

_Lost,_ Ken thought. _We’re lost. I’m lost again in darkness. Is there a way out? Could that be the point of all this? To draw us into something we can’t walk out of?_ He gritted his teeth and pounded a fist against the wall. The sound wasn’t loud, but it startled those he was with, and there was a moment of silence. No. Now was not the time to be morbid. He knew they needed to calm down, stop jumping to conclusions, and think. He took a deep breath.

“We’ll look for light,” he said. “We’ll start back and take the halls that seem brighter, and that have been used recently. We can’t keep going at random.”

“Alright, Ken-chan,” Wormmon said. He had faith in his partner, and also knew instinctively that at the moment it was critical to support Ken’s judgments.

As it turned out, the return to well-lit spaces wasn’t as long a time coming as they feared it would be. Before they had backtracked very far they began to come across corridors that seemed less neglected, and following them in what they thought was the general direction from which they had come the Chosen were rewarded with the blackness of the netherworld giving way to a sort of diffuse subterranean twilight.

“We’re going to be okay,” Miyako whispered. Ken smiled at her and nodded. It had been another lesson in hope; to remind him that after all he had been through he should have more faith.

Immediately their good feelings faded as an unknown sound came to them from down a lateral hall, a loud, mechanical whooshing sound. Hawkmon’s wings went up to take hold of the feather he used as a weapon. No Hanumon had made that sound, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t dangerous. Given the great variety of enemies the masters of the place had thrown at them since the appearance of the Dark Tower in Arkham, they had no way of judging just what soldiers the base might conceal.

When nothing followed the sound, the four of them cautiously moved to the intersection of the tunnels and peered around the corner, careful not to expose too much of themselves. At the end of the new hallway was what seemed to be a large room filled with mysterious machinery. For the moment there was no sign of any hostile Digimon, so slowly the group approached the room’s entrance.

They were just barely able to stifle exclamations of surprise when a doorway slid open in one of the machines and some man-shaped creature rushed out of it. The thing didn’t see them, but ran at full speed beyond the range of their vision, apparently heading for some other exit. Recovering, Ken and Miyako took hold of their Digivices and stepped to the doorway.

Up close they could see that the primary machine in the room was huge, fed by black tubing that ran along the floor from the direction that the unknown being had gone. There were a number of doors in it, and above each was a monitor. Several of the screens displayed what they recognized as the Crest of Courage, while the Crest of Love was shown on the others.

“What’s going on here?” Ken wondered, aloud but under his breath.

“I feel the power of a Digimental,” Hawkmon said.

“Could it be…” Miyako wondered, “…like Sethmon and Coatlmon? But where are they going in such a hurry?”

Ken was beginning to grasp the situation. It was here that the artificial Digimon copied from the data of the Digimentals were being made. And he had a feeling that he knew exactly who the manufactured Digimon were running toward.


	62. Twisted Reflections

_“‘Certainly, there was Noth’g but ye liveliest Awfulness in that which H. rais’d upp from What he cou’d gather onlie a part of.’” – H. P. Lovecraft,_ The Case of Charles Dexter Ward

Takeru knelt on the floor, cradling Patamon. He hadn’t been in time to stop his partner from hitting the ground, and the little Digimon lay limp in his arms.

“Patamon! Stay with me! Please, Patamon!”

But it was clear that Patamon was unconscious – the fall had knocked him out – and he made no response. Around the pair of them the Digimon in the machines had largely stopped making any noises other than screams and screeches, partially because of their continuous pain but also out of hope or fear. All at once the sounds of those nearest the partners grew in urgency, and Takeru looked up from Patamon, trying to avoid any sight of the machines on either side, as a shadow fell over him. One of the giant bat creatures was hovering just above the ground, looking down with yellow eyes.

“ _Patamon. Patamon,_ ” it said, sounding like a warped recording of Takeru’s voice. Its long, furry tail, tipped like its other appendages with a curved metal sickle, came questing forward from beneath its body, reaching towards the boy’s partner.

“No,” Takeru said, hunching over to protect his friend, covering as much of Patamon as possible with his own body. The bat-thing hesitated a moment. Takeru remembered someone having said that the enemy didn’t want the Chosen Children to be killed. If that was the case, he would just have to make sure that anything that wanted to get at Patamon had to go through him. He stayed curled up, and waited.

The whining of the trapped Digimon rose in pitch. In another moment Takeru felt cold metal graze the back of his hand, delicately making an incision. The pain followed, and he gritted his teeth as blood dribbled out of the wound. Amid the sounds of the tortured Digimon he heard the bat-thing titter. It withdrew its tail, deciding on where to cut next.

Across the room, several of the creatures had their attention focused on Digmon. He was doing his best to keep Iori out of harm’s way, but the monsters about had the partners surrounded.

**“Gold Rush!”**

A couple drills scored hits on their airborne targets, but the bats were agile enough to dodge many of them, and before Digmon could ready his weapons for another attack one of the enemies swooped in from behind, digging its sickle claws into his back. He cried out in pain, and nearly lost his balance. Iori’s hands weren’t enough to steady him, but his partner’s touch gave Digmon the strength he needed to keep from collapsing.

Iori was the one who lost balance as he was suddenly yanked backwards by his shirt collar. One of the bat creatures had grabbed it with its teeth, and pulled Iori from Digmon’s side, wrapping its bladed arms about him. Digmon spun around, but in that moment there was no way that he could safely attack.

**“Crazy Sonic!”**

This time the waves of shrieking sound hit directly. There was a brief, white-hot flash of pain in Digmon’s head, and then he had devolved to Armadimon. Iori cried his partner’s name, but there was no way to go to the little Digimon’s side without being sliced into segments. The bats laughed hysterically. One drew a little closer to Armadimon and kicked him with the sickle at the end of a leg. Armadimon screamed as the force of the blow flipped him onto his back.

“Armadimon…”

Iori was in tears. The thing wrapped about him chuckled shrilly in his ear.

“Don’t worry,” it said. “We’re not going to kill him. There’s already a generator picked out especially for him.”

***

At first, as he came to the top of the staircase, Daisuke didn’t see Hikari, but whipping his head from side to side he found her some way down the hall, leaning with a hand against the wall for support, facing away from him. Even at a distance he could see she was breathing heavily. Maybe the run up the stairs had winded her.

“Hikari,” Tailmon called, coming to the top of the steps and hurrying to her partner’s side. As she approached she happened to notice that the black pipes running down the center of the stairs continued on this upper level, leading away down the hall they were in and curving out of sight into another.

“I’m sorry, Tailmon,” Hikari said quietly as her friends gathered round her. “And everyone.”

“It’s alright,” Tailmon replied, though Daisuke wasn’t sure what Hikari was apologizing for. “Let’s go find the others. Maybe if we follow these pipes in the floor we’ll reach them.”

“Really?” V-mon asked. “How do you know that?”

“I don’t,” Tailmon answered, turning to him with a slight smile born from the relief of being away from the black room, “But it’s the only thing we can see that’s different from the rest of this place. They have to lead somewhere.”

_They lead right to that room,_ Daisuke thought, irritated again, but he kept it to himself. Hikari merely nodded at her Digimon’s logic, and the pair of them started off after the black tubes.

“Are you alright, Daisuke?” V-mon asked, looking up at him.

“Just come on,” Daisuke said. “They’re leaving us behind.”

The group continued on, more quickly than before, following the black piping through halls and rooms. At first everything still seemed abandoned, but as they approached a place where two corridors met the sound of running feet broke the stillness. Tailmon and Hikari picked up the pace, hoping against hope that they had found their friends. But what emerged from the passage ahead was someone they had never seen before, a Digimon.

Even so, the partners found something familiar in the form of the being. It reminded them of their dead friend Wizarmon, but Wizarmon this certainly was not. The clothing was tattered, and predominantly red in color, while the flesh was hideously desiccated as if from terrible burns.

“Finally found them,” it said hoarsely, as two others of its kind joined it, blocking the hall.

“Hikari-chan!”

Daisuke caught up and inserted himself between Hikari and the newcomers, while V-mon stopped at Tailmon’s side.

“I feel something weird,” the little dragon said. “It’s like… like the Digimental of Courage.”

“Good guess!” the enemy replied. “We are FlaWizarmon, born of the Digimental of Courage to teach you to fear.”

“FlaWizarmon?” Hikari repeated, her former uneasiness beginning to develop into anger.

“What do you have to do with the Digimental of Courage?” Daisuke asked, angry already.

“Don’t worry about that,” one of the other FlaWizarmon said in a husky voice. “You just step back, Chosen Children. We aren’t allowed to roast you yet.”

“We don’t have time for you,” Tailmon said venomously, leaping towards the nearest of the three with claws at the ready. Aping both Wizarmon and the Crest of Courage, the double mockeries infuriated her. But with an agility she hadn’t expected, her opponent jumped up into the air and shot a foot out, planting a solid kick that knocked her out of the air.

“Daisuke!” V-mon shouted.

“Right,” Daisuke answered. “We have the real courage. **Digimental Up!** ”

**“V-mon, Armor Evolve! … Burning Courage, Fladramon!”**

“Get back, everyone!” Fladramon said, spreading his limbs to take up the span of the hallway.

“Now this will be interesting,” said the central FlaWizarmon, as with one movement he and his allies drew from a holster on their belts staves like oversized matchsticks. The ragged tops of their hats began to leap and dance like bonfires.

**“Fire Cloud!”**

Gouts of flame leapt from the heads of the matches, engulfing Fladramon, but with a growl of exertion he shook it off, slicing it into sparks with his claws.

“Fire is my power! **Knuckle Fire!** ”

There were three fiery projectiles, one for each target. Before they could find their mark, however, the foremost FlaWizarmon snatched up another staff, pointing its blue match head at Tailmon. Instantly the target of Fladramon’s attack changed, and the fireballs circled around and launch themselves at Hikari’s partner. Fladramon was too surprised to intercept them, and Tailmon was barely quick enough to jump out of the way.

“S-Sorry, Tailmon!” Fladramon cried, his mouth hanging open.

“Your mastery of fire is second-rate,” FlaWizarmon sneered.

“Maybe,” said Fladramon, recovering quickly. “But then—”

He finished the thought by springing forward, and the first FlaWizarmon’s face crumbled into data beneath the crushing impact of his claws. The other two lashed out with their staves, but Fladramon dodged one and parried the other, finishing the maneuver by slicing open another of his opponents.

**“Magic Ignition!”**

The final FlaWizarmon had pulled his blue-headed staff from its holster, and covered Fladramon in what looked like blue fire, but instead of heat, all Daisuke’s partner could feel was his vitality suddenly draining away. The FlaWizarmon’s grimace became a smirk as it saw its spell take effect, but—

**“Neko Punch!”**

The blow caught FlaWizarmon in the side of the head. The match went flying out of his grasp, and all he could do was turn to face Tailmon before being punctured repeatedly by the rapid strikes of her claws.

“Like the others, they aren’t as strong as real Armor Digimon,” Tailmon said as the enemy disintegrated. “So they’re just fakes after all.”

“Alright,” Daisuke said. His partner devolved to V-mon, but with the return of action he was coming out of his funk. “We must be getting close! Come on, Hikari-chan!”

Hikari nodded. She hoped that Daisuke was right. If they could reunite with their friends, there would be nothing to fear. Together, the Chosen Children could stand against the darkness of the past and present. If she could only hold on…


	63. Convergence

_“Their eyes stared with awful agony; their lips writhed in soundless laments; tears coursed down the sunken cheeks of many. Even the horribly inhuman heads – bird-like, reptilian, monstrous things of living stone and metal and vegetable matter – showed traces of the unceasing torment that gnawed at them.” – Henry Kuttner, “Hydra”_

From his vantage point above the generators, it was obvious to Sato that two of the six threats had been eliminated. Neither Patamon nor Armadimon were in any condition to continue fighting, and his Pipismon had them and their partners surrounded. Before long the reinforcements should arrive – FlaWizarmon who could keep ahold of the Chosen Children without slicing them to ribbons. Sato considered revealing his presence, but decided to wait. If he only had a childish impulse to gloat, there would be time for that later. At the moment four of the Chosen were still at large in the base. There was no sense in taking unnecessary risks.

For now he watched, and listened. The Digimon in the generators had resumed their usual whines, groans, cries, and screams, though maybe the sounds were even a little more hopeless than before. Sato had not been pleased to have the battle come to the generator room, but now that it was over, with two Chosen defeated and the machinery unharmed, he was ready to change his opinion. Crushing the brief hope of the sufferers would help increase output.

He turned his gaze to Takaishi, still huddled over his Digimon. The Pipismon hovering over him was still trying to get to the boy’s wounded partner, its tail now making quick short cuts in his lower leg. Sato was too far away to really see what was happening, but he could imagine Takaishi with clenched teeth, maybe tears, or the beginnings of tears, either from pain, or emotion, or both. _It’s only what you deserve,_ Sato thought, his lips curving into a cruel smile, _After all the trouble you’ve caused for us. Stop fighting, stop hoping, and_ hurt, _you little bastard._

***

Tailmon led the way, bounding forward while V-mon and the humans ran behind. At the end of the wide hall they could see their destination, the place where the black pipes had their source. The outlines of the cylindrical machines grew more distinct as they approached, and they heard the sounds coming from them with greater clarity. Soon Tailmon crossed the threshold, where the tubes they had been following branched off in multiple directions, snaking around the room, each to a different machine.

“What is that sound!?” Daisuke asked, stopping just behind Tailmon.

“It’s coming from these,” was all she said, without turning around.

“It’s… it’s horrible,” Hikari said. She stepped forward, towards the front row of cylinders.

Partway across the room, Iori had heard Daisuke’s voice, and looked up from his fallen partner, trying to pick out his friends through the rows of generators.

“Daisuke-san!”

“Quiet!” squeaked the Pipismon that had him in its grip. But Iori was working his way out of its embrace, and there was no way for it to stop him without risking damage to its master’s new prisoner.

“Help, Daisuke-san!”

Iori managed to squirm free, and joined Armadimon at the center of the ring of enemies. The Pipismon readied themselves to intercept him, but didn’t move. Iori ignored them. Instead he looked for and found the bright colors of his friends’ clothing at one end of the large room. But did they hear him, or see him?

Daisuke heard him at least.

“Hey! Iori! Where are you?”

He rushed forward in the general direction of Iori’s voice, which he had just barely been able to make out over the horrific noises emanating from the metal cylinders. In doing so he came into close proximity with one of the machines, and its hatch slid open in response, revealing its occupant. Daisuke cried out and jumped back as he glimpsed the thing, which was now a distorted parody of the Gazimon it had once been – the ears torn, the flesh warped, the claws broken and steaming.

Not far away, Hikari watched as the generator standing before her exposed what was inside it. There wasn’t much left. It seemed to have been a Betamon, but it had lost almost all shape, the remnants of its body barely connected to its shriveled Digi-Core. Its eyes, now markedly different sizes, were glazed over, but as it stared at her a slight measure of focus returned to them. What emotion they conveyed she couldn’t recognize, and didn’t want to.

She covered her mouth with a quivering hand. She didn’t back away. It was like that time four years ago when she had witnessed WaruMonzaemon’s cruelty to the Numemon, but this was worse. The room was filled with machines, and the machines were filled with Digimon suffering like this one – it was worse than any nightmare, because it was real, and for the moment she was paralyzed with horror and a soul-crushing pity.

“This is—” Tailmon began, but couldn’t find the words to finish her sentence. Like her partner, she was unable to find in all her memories anything so appalling. The cruelty she had seen in Vamdemon and the Digimon Kaiser was dwarfed by what was happening in this room.

“Daisuke, those monsters have Armadimon and Iori!”

Tailmon glanced over and saw what V-mon had seen – another group of enemies resembling large purple bats. They would probably be Armor level, like the FlaWizarmon. She needed to evolve. She sprang to Hikari’s side. Her partner was kneeling now, unmoving, eyes wet with tears.

“Hikari,” she said. “We have to evolve.”

“They’re screaming,” was all the girl could manage. “ _They’re screaming._ ”

Tailmon reached out with her front paws, shaking her partner gently.

“We can’t help them until we defeat the enemy,” she said. “Come on, stay with me!”

“Y-yes.” With an effort Hikari raised her head, her horror swiftly becoming determination and a righteous anger.

Nearby, Daisuke had still been gaping at the Gazimon when V-mon called him back to his senses, and he regained presence of mind in time to turn and see a pair of the Pipismon sweeping towards him and his friends over the generators, leaving a few behind to make sure Iori didn’t escape. He looked at his partner, wondering if V-mon would be able to evolve again so soon.

V-mon himself had fixed all his focus on the approaching enemies. He had seen enough of what the machines contained, and didn’t want to see any more. What he did want to do was get back at the ones responsible. They didn’t deserve to be called Digimon, these things, fighting for the people who caused all this pain for no good reason. He didn’t wait for Daisuke. He was ready to attack now.

**“V-mon Head!”**

V-mon launched himself headfirst into the first of the Pipismon to pass over the nearest row of cylinders, his bony head colliding with its chin. The bat creature’s head whipped back violently, and it fell from the air, unconscious. V-mon landed and looked up again to see another Pipismon descending on him. He raised his fists and prepared for the impact, but his opponent never reached him.

**“Curse of Queen!”**

Twin beams of pink light struck the swooping Pipismon and kept right on going, flattening it against one of the room’s walls. Those Pipismon remaining with Iori looked at each other. After a last glance at Armadimon, who was struggling to right himself in spite of his pain, they scattered into the air to engage Nefertimon.

Some ways away, Takeru looked up cautiously as he heard and felt the beating of his tormenter’s wings, and its shadow withdrew from him. There had been voices – something had drawn its attention – and who could it be but his friends here at last? In his arms, Patamon stirred and groaned.

“Takeru… What’s happening?”

“We’ll be alright,” he answered, getting to his feet and wincing at the cuts on his limbs. Looking about him he saw Nefertimon with Hikari perched atop her. The Pipismon were a little quicker than she, but Nefertimon was able to avoid their damaging screeches, and whenever an opportunity presented itself she would blast them with Nile Jewelry.

“Takeru-san!”

Iori made his voice heard over the noise of battle and the pained sounds from the generators. The two Chosen Children met at the place where Armadimon had fallen. Iori’s eyes were still wet and he was trembling all over; it was only now that he’d had time to fully understand what the cylindrical machines contained.

“What do we do!?”

“We – we’ve got to—”

Takeru was unable to finish the sentence before a sound drew their attention to the end of the room opposite from where Daisuke and Hikari had entered. A large door was swinging open, and out of it emerged five FlaWizarmon onto a raised platform.

“Ah, here we have the Chosen Children!” yelled one, and all members of the group raised their match-like staves with heads ignited. “Attack!”

**“Momiji Oroshi!”**

Suddenly four of the FlaWizarmon had something protruding from their torsos. As their data dissolved into nothingness, Shurimon’s four arms could be seen, each with its shuriken.

**“Kusanagi!”**

The FlaWizarmon that had shouted turned around in surprise before being bisected by the Kusanagi, which circled around still spinning and reattached itself to Shurimon’s back. Behind him came Miyako, Ken, and Wormmon, the four of them having followed their enemies from the place where they’d been manufactured.

Miyako and company had heard what the FlaWizarmon had shouted, and ran forward with hopes of finding their friends still well. It would be good to see friendly faces. That silent chase through the corridors of the complex had been intense. Shurimon, who could move quickly and silently without much effort when he needed to, had led the way, while the other three hung back for fear of being discovered. They’d been fortunate enough to catch up with the FlaWizarmon they had seen emerge from the massive machine, but had found him in a group with others of his kind. They had surreptitiously followed in the hopes that, unlike themselves, their enemies would know where they were going.

The Chosen hadn’t come to the decision to follow the artificial Armor Digimon immediately. First they had taken the time to disable the machine, with Shurimon using his weapons to sever the cords that fed it. He had sawed through the black tubing with relative ease. What it was they found flowing through it, they weren’t able to guess at. It wasn’t quite a gas or a liquid, just a kind of dark color or sluggish miasma that dispersed rapidly in clean air. It was awful to look at, and they had made sure not to go anywhere near it.

During their trailing of the enemy it had become clear to Ken that they were following the black pipes to their source, a fact that hadn’t helped his trepidation. He knew they would eventually find out where the disturbing substance the pipes carried had come from, and added to that realization was a recollection of the pipes which he and the others had followed in the midst of another crisis, deep within the derelict base of the Digimon Kaiser. The pipes that led directly to the World of Darkness.

Now he saw the large expanse of the generator room stretching before him. He heard them – the loud groans and the whines like barely suppressed screams. He had expected something grim, though this was beyond even what he had feared. There was no need to wonder now where the missing and kidnapped Digimon had gone. They were here – not as slaves, but as fuel. But what nightmarish engine needed pain and despair for fuel?

Not even at the height of his own evil had Ken approached this, but that was no comfort. All that he could do was promise something to himself – that he would free these Digimon, and exterminate whatever had put them to this use. But first on his agenda was reuniting the six Chosen Children and their partners, many of whom he could see out in the large room.

The remaining Pipismon had either been deleted or beaten into unconsciousness, and with the exception of any Hanumon still at large, there would be no reinforcements coming. Ken looked at Miyako.

“What – What is this!?” she asked no one, her eyes widening in horror.

“This…” Shurimon began slowly, “…is unforgiveable.”

“I’m scared, Ken-chan,” Wormmon whined, pressing himself against his partner’s shirt.

Ken had no words of comfort for him. He was trembling himself. But, gathering what courage he could muster, he was the first to take a step forward, to descend the few stairs into man-made Hell.


	64. Meeting

_“‘I caught sight of the man, but it was only for a moment, and the agony you witnessed was the agony of suspense… I shuddered at the idea of this incarnate fiend, whose soul is black with shocking crimes, mingling free and unobserved amongst the harmless crowds, meditating perhaps a new and more fearful cycle of infamies. I tell you, sir, that an awful being stalks through the streets, a being before whom the sunlight itself should blacken, and the summer air grow chill and dank.’” – Arthur Machen, “Novel of the Dark Valley”_

Sato still stood on the generator room’s balcony, silent. The Chosen Children and their partners were regrouping near the center of the room, but he could see that they were clearly concerned about the Digimon suffering around them. As he watched, his eyes grew ever harder, and his lips drew back from clenched teeth. Everything had fallen apart so quickly, starting with the appearance of Yagami and Motomiya. The Hanumon had not been able to hold them long enough, and the artificial Armor Digimon were even weaker than Coatlmon and Sethmon had been, maybe due to mass production, or some other flaw that he didn’t have time to address.

Calming himself with an effort, he stepped forward, out of shadow and up to the balcony railing. It was only a matter of time before the Chosen Children began messing around with the machinery, and that could have disastrous results. For now he would stall them and wait for reinforcements.

***

“What the hell’s going on here?” Daisuke asked, posing the question to no one in particular. His voice was equal parts horrified and outraged.

“They’re… being drained of something,” Ken said. “But I – I don’t know why.” He dropped his eyes from a twisted and fractured Floramon to his clenched fists.

“It’s going to that place…” Hikari murmured, too low for any of the others to catch it over the wails from the generators.

“We must get them out of there!” Hawkmon said.

“Yeah!” agreed V-mon. “Come on, let’s find a way to—”

“Don’t bother, Chosen Children.”

Twelve pairs of eyes flew to the end of the room, where a man was standing upon a balcony. His voice had been raised just enough to get the Chosen’s attention. In its wake there was an audible change in cries of the tortured Digimon, as if that one sentence – or the presence of that particular speaker – caused them immense agitation.

“Silence!” Just that additional word and the yelps and groans ceased, dwindling to pitiful whimpers. “I want to speak to my guests.”

Hikari, for one, had recognized the voice, though she had only heard it a few times in her life, and it was no exaggeration to say that it affected her just as powerfully as it had the wretched things in the generators. He existed, then. The man who stalked her through her nightmares now stood on the balcony in the flesh.

“It is nice to finally meet you all,” the man continued, his voice now lower, but just as icy. “Motomiya Daisuke, Inoue Miyako, and Hida Iori. Takaishi Takeru. Ichijouji Ken. Yagami _Hikari_.” Into the last word – Hikari – Light – he put a strange emphasis. There was hatred in it, mingled with some other feeling harder to identify. Whatever it was, it sent a chill through Hikari herself. Daisuke was less impressed.

“Cut the crap! Who are you?”

There was a brief pause before the man answered. “Why ask? My name means nothing to you. But I will tell you. I am Sato Katsu.”

He was right. It did mean nothing to them. But the implication was clear: he didn’t expect them to leave this place to make use of the information.

“And what are you doing to these Digimon?” Takeru demanded.

“Isn’t it obvious?” the man replied. “They are my fuel source. These once useless beings have become tools for a higher purpose.”

“What’s wrong with you?” V-mon yelled. “Can’t you see it’s hurting them?”

“I can. Does it disturb you? Rest assured I would use humans just as readily if we had the technology.”

“You—!”

“And for what?” Miyako asked, her eyes flashing behind her glasses. “Why do you keep attacking us?”

“The Chosen Children have stood in our way for too long. They must all be dealt with if Darkness is to triumph in this world.”

Ken stepped forward.

“Sato Katsu, I don’t know what your goal is. But I do know that the powers of Darkness cannot be controlled, by anyone. Please, stop all of this! In the end, you’ll only be used yourself.”

Up on the balcony, Sato couldn’t resist sneering before speaking.

“And you assume I don’t know.”

“What?”

The answer took the Chosen Children aback. They could only gape at the man on the balcony as he continued.

“There is no using the powers of Darkness. Nor is there any fighting them. All that a human being can do is to allow the Dark power to use them as it will! We’re all pawns, you and I. The difference is that I’m aware of it.”

“And you think this is necessary?” Ken asked, the first to find his voice, “All of this – this cruelty and suffering?”

“Stop there,” Sato said by way of reply. “I will not be lectured by _you_ on the proper treatment of Digimon, dear Kaiser.”

“That’s not fair!” Miyako said. “Ken-kun is different from what he was before. You can’t…”

“You’re disgusting!” Takeru said, speaking up when she paused. “Nothing you say can justify all of this!” He was shaking in his fury. All of his fear and concern for his partner had now been channeled into anger. Iori knew that Takeru the merciless avenger had returned, but now it did not trouble him, because at the moment he shared all those feelings now coursing through his friend.

“There is no need to justify a simple reality. If I wasn’t the one to accomplish the inevitable, it would have been another.”

Another. The word reechoed in Ken’s mind. Since the man on the balcony had revealed himself, Ken had had the sensation that something was wrong or out of place, and now he realized that this was not the man who had stood in his room on that first night. The voice and personality – and the feel of his presence – didn’t carry the same dark hilarity.

“Where is the other?” he asked. “Aren’t there two of you?”

“Surely you don’t expect me to answer all of your questions,” Sato answered after a brief pause. “There’s no reason why I should when you’ve been content to remain ignorant for so long.”

“What are you talking about?” Daisuke asked. “I don’t care who you are or what you want. Just let these Digimon go!”

“Let them go? I never let go of anything. And look at them. Even if I wanted to release them, it would mean their destruction to remove them from the generators now. There’s nothing you can do, children. They’re already dead.”

“That…” Daisuke shifted his eyes to his friends, suddenly in doubt. “That can’t be right. We’re going to get them out of there.”

The others said nothing. They wanted to believe that the man was lying, but all of them had a sinking sensation in the pit of their stomachs, an appalling conviction that there would be no rescuing done today. There was a moment of relative silence, broken only by the whimpering of the Digimon in the generators, some of the sounds sporadically breaking into groans or low moaning.

It was only because of the quiet that everyone heard the harsh metallic scrape of something along the room’s stone floor. Looking around, the Chosen could see that some of the fallen Pipismon were gathering themselves up in preparation to go airborne, and could also see what had led them to make their move – spilling out of several doorways came the silent Hanumon.

“I’ll leave you to them, Chosen Children, though I expect to see you again shortly,” Sato said, turning away from the balcony railing. “Your partners will make a fine addition to this power plant.”

“That won’t happen!” Takeru called after him. He turned to Patamon with a raised D-3, and his expression softened somewhat. “Are you able?”

With his expression determined, Patamon nodded. The Chosen Children’s voices rang out.

**“Digimental Up!”**

**“V-mon, Armor Evolve! … Burning Courage, Fladramon!”  
“Hawkmon, Armor Evolve! … Bursting Purity, Shurimon!”  
“Armadimon, Armor Evolve! … Steel Knowledge, Digmon!”  
“Patamon, Armor Evolve! … Soaring Hope, Pegasmon!”  
“Tailmon, Armor Evolve! … Light of Smiles, Nefertimon!”  
“Wormmon, Armor Evolve! … Midsummer Night of Kindness, Pucchiemon!”**

The six partner Digimon readied themselves as the remnants of Sato’s forces came at them, the Hanumon darting between generators as the Pipismon took to the air. But before the opposing sides could clash, a loud rumble sprang up from deep beneath the Chosen Children’s feet, and the room itself began to shudder and vibrate. The children let out cries of surprise and sudden terror. A couple Hanumon lost their footing and stumbled against the cylindrical machines.

An earthquake. And this the absolute worst place for it. The Chosen had gone underground without giving a thought to the Digital World’s increasing seismic activity, but they regretted it now.

The sourceless light of the base suddenly began to dim, and the room grew rapidly dark as the screams of the tortured Digimon rose again in volume. Unlike everyone else in the room, the surviving Pipismon were unfazed, tittering madly and mimicking the sounds of suffering in the cacophonous darkness.

For a moment there was pandemonium. Miyako was crouched on the floor, hands covering her head. Earthquakes always frightened her, but here, deep underground, with memories of her last nightmare swirling through her mind, she was near to panic. Amid the shrieks from the generators she caught Nefertimon’s cry as a Pipismon’s sickle found her in the dark, and somewhere nearby Iori was squeaking, “Light! We need light!”

Then, all at once, there was light. A red glow suffused the room, and looking up Miyako saw Fladramon hanging in the air above them, his body clothed in flame.

**“Heartener Beam!”**

Pucchiemon’s technique flashed out repeatedly, illuminating the room, and at its touch the Pipismon ceased their swooping, began swaying unsteadily in midair.

**“Curse of Queen!”  
“Silver Blaze!”**

The Pipismon exploded into data as the Hanumon, their balance regained with the lessening of the quake, engaged the Chosen Digimon on the ground. Standing protectively over his Miyako-san, Shurimon beat them back with his Momiji Oroshi while Digmon drilled into any that dared get within range. Aloft, Fladramon plummeted suddenly downward.

**“Fire Rocket!”**

The last of the Hanumon burned away to nothing, and the rumblings of the earthquake faded. Slowly the base’s lighting returned to its former setting – gloomy, but so bright after what had just passed. The Chosen Children would have greeted it with sensations of relief…but instead they looked at the rows of cylinders, each with its hatch slid open, each containing a ravaged, mutilated Digimon, and all positive emotions died within them.


	65. EMPTY

_“He only felt that he was looking upon a cosmic tragedy, and he shrank with shame, as if the guilt of a whole race were laid upon him.” – Robert E. Howard, “The Tower of the Elephant”_

Ken stared at the back of the cylindrical generator, feeling miserably stupid. His face kept twitching, and he felt drops of chilly sweat on his forehead. Thinking got him nowhere. The Digimon Kaiser might have been able to figure out what all the valves and pipes and controls meant – he had designed enough complicated machinery in his time, though thankfully Ken had nothing this monstrous weighing on his conscience. But now Ichijouji Ken, bright though he was, was no genius, and he had to admit to himself at last that he had no clue how to shut the machine down without killing its occupant. The shuddering sobs of the ravaged Mushmon came to him through the thin metal wall of the cylinder.

“Have you got it, Ken-chan?” Wormmon asked, clinging tightly to the boy’s ankle.

Ken shook his head with a grunt of frustration.

“Could he really have been telling the truth?” Iori asked. “There’s no way to get them out?”

There was a moment’s silence. Every hatch on every generator was open, so the Chosen Children and their partners mostly directed their gaze at each other. It was more pleasant than looking at the mangled Digimon, but still discouraging to see their own worry mirrored on every friend’s face.

“There’s got to be something we can do,” Daisuke said. “Couldn’t we just try messing with those controls until we find out how to let them go?”

“W-Well…” Ken began, but it was Takeru who answered.

“We can’t. If we don’t know what we’re doing it might just make things worse.”

Daisuke didn’t have any reply to that, though even Takeru had to admit that something worse was hard to imagine. Ken was looking once more at the control panel, racking his brain again for an answer. As far as he could tell, there were only a few possibilities resulting from tampering with the machines. The Digimon could be freed, their rate of dissolution might slow or quicken, or they might be destroyed completely. The odds of helping weren’t good, but they had to do something. It wasn’t good for anyone’s sanity to be staying in the room too long.

“Please…”

The Chosen all turned to one of the nearby generators, whence the unfamiliar voice had spoken. There was a Bakumon within it. While warped and fractured like the others, it was more intact than most of the imprisoned Digimon they had seen. There were cracks in both its helmet and the skin beneath. Tailmon noticed that the Holy Ring which members of the species typically wore had been removed, and that the left foreleg where it had been was perforated and withered.

“Don’t leave…us here…children,” it continued, seeing that it had their attention.

“We won’t,” Hikari assured it, sounding a little hurt that the Bakumon could believe them capable of such a thing.

“How can we help you?” Miyako asked, then realized that the question seemed a stupid thing to ask someone in the Bakumon’s position, and hurried on. “I mean, well, you probably don’t know, I guess, but…”

“No,” Ken said. “Anything you could tell us would help.” The Bakumon didn’t reply immediately – perhaps it was gathering strength for what it had to say.

“…He told…the truth…” it said at last, then added, when their expressions pleaded with it in the hope that they had misunderstood its meaning, “We can’t…get out.” There was a long silence. Most of the Digimon in the generators had stopped their moaning to listen to the conversation, though from somewhere the sound of someone softly crying could be heard – a bleak, lonely sound.

“Are you sure?” Daisuke asked at last.

“…He would…come…watch us…hurt… He’s…a monster… He wouldn’t…leave…a way…out.”

“But we have to try!” V-mon said. The other Digimon nodded their agreement.

“But…” Ken said, “what can we do?”

“Don’t leave me!” the Bakumon rasped in sudden terror. The twelve of them didn’t move, and when the Bakumon spoke again it was again with sad resignation. “Do something…anything… But don’t leave…us… Don’t…make us live…like this.”

As its voice faded, a low susurration swept through the room. The Digimon were sighing – now their fate was out in the open.

“No…” Hikari whispered.

“You mean kill you!?” Daisuke asked.

“W-We can’t do that!” Miyako protested.

“This is awful,” said Iori, half to himself. “This is wrong… it’s too wrong!”

_But it’s the truth,_ Ken thought. _We have to do something, even if it means killing them. There’s no other way._ And if that was what it boiled down to, he would be the one to step forward. It was the same decision he had come to in the Giga House, when the time came to determine what to do with Archnemon. He was already weighted with unforgiveable sins. The others shouldn’t have to take that on themselves, even as an act of mercy.

Gently slipping out of Wormmon’s grasp, he slowly approached the Bakumon’s generator, looking again at the indecipherable control panel. For a moment he simply stared at it, when he felt a hand on his arm. Looking over, he saw that it belonged to Takeru.

“Wait,” Takeru said. “Do we really have to do this? Think.”

Ken didn’t answer immediately. He felt the eyes of the others on him. “I don’t want to. We…we shouldn’t have to. But…what else can we do?”

“I don’t know,” Takeru answered. “But this isn’t like destroying an enemy. I’m not sure if I could live with myself after doing this.”

Ken looked at him, his expression speaking for him. Takeru took a step back and removed his hand. His face became sad, resigned. “I’m sorry,” he said.

Ken next turned his eyes towards Iori, perhaps looking for scorn or reproach, but the boy just looked miserable. He didn’t look at Ken – not pointedly, but because his thoughts were turned inward. Maybe he was just trying to keep from crying again.

“There’s still a chance, right?” Daisuke asked softly. Ken’s nod was barely perceptible. He turned back to the machine and reached for the control panel. The others steeled themselves. Miyako covered her eyes.

_I’m sorry,_ Ken thought. He turned the large valve. The clear liquid the Bakumon was floating in began to darken, getting murkier as the strange substance of the pipes began to leak from the fissures in the Bakumon’s Digi-Core. Bakumon itself began to moan in increased pain, and Ken quickly turned the valve back to its original position. The transparent tube cleared, and Bakumon went limp. Ken looked at it, clearly having second thoughts, but the Digimon grated out the single word, “Try…”

So, after a glance at his friends, Ken turned back to the panel. He was relieved to see no judgment in their eyes. Instead, those who had the courage to watch the process looked as if they might be sick.

He next pressed a button to the side of a small screen, and watched as it lit up in response. It wasn’t booby-trapped, then, as he thought it might be. What the screen presented him with were two options: _Output_ and _Empty_. Bracing himself for whatever might come next, he chose the first, but all it gave him was a technical readout. Going back to the first menu, his finger hovered over that second option, _Empty_.

The moments dragged on as he hesitated. The others knew what Ken was suffering, but they couldn’t bring themselves to volunteer in his place. The entire room was in a hush – with whatever sensory organs were left to them the Digimon in the generators had turned all their attention towards what was about to happen. The Bakumon broke the silence.

“If I die…it would be…very kind.”

Ken closed his eyes and let out his breath. He knew it was the truth. He pressed the button. The result was quick and un-theatrical. With a whir from the machine, the Bakumon dissolved away entirely without another sound. The liquid in the cylinder began to drain out of it through apertures at the base, and the hose that had been embedded in the Bakumon’s Digicore sank with it.

That was all. Ken had killed it. It may have been the right thing to do, but that wasn’t much comfort. Not quite willing to look at his fellow Chosen yet, he cast his gaze around the generator room, taking in the rows of machines, and a wave of nausea swept over him. Would they have to do that to every Digimon here?

“I can’t believe it’s come to this,” Hikari murmured.

“We’ll have to delete the others in the same way,” Tailmon said, not so much matter-of-fact as bitter. “They shouldn’t have to suffer like this. Until we set them free they can’t be reborn.”

“That guy…” Daisuke said, his voice smoldering. “When we catch him…!”

Takeru said nothing. He felt Daisuke was entitled to his anger – certainly Takeru himself was equally angry – but Daisuke’s last sentence would be a hard one to finish. What if they did catch up to Sato? The man seemed too monstrous to repent of his crimes. Was he being manipulated, as Ken and Oikawa had been, or was his evil his own? In Takeru’s opinion, Sato Katsu was already beyond forgiveness. If he was beyond even seeking forgiveness, what then? Involuntarily he thought of one of his dreams. He was sure it had been Sato in the doorway of Pinocchimon’s toy room, his face in shadow as the gun trembled in Takeru’s grip…

“This is like a nightmare,” said Miyako.

“I just want to get out of here,” Iori said. “I want to go home.” But then mentioning home made him think of poor Chiho, and he had to fight back a sob. Armadimon looked up at his partner in commiseration, more concerned for the boy’s emotional wellbeing than the pain that still remained from the beating the Pipismon had given him.

“I know we can’t leave them,” V-mon said, “but if we stay here too long that guy’ll get away!”

Deep in his negative emotions, Ken had barely been listening to what was being said, but he heard V-mon. Daisuke’s partner was right; it would take a long time to “empty” the generators one by one. Wouldn’t Sato have a system installed somewhere that would allow more than one to be emptied at once? How disgusting that the best they could hope for in this situation was a faster way to delete innocent Digimon.

Again he looked around the room, checking for any machinery besides the cylindrical generators. He saw something against one wall, and started towards it, looking straight ahead to avoid seeing the broken forms of the beings whose lives he would be forced to take. The others followed after him, a couple asking what he was doing but not getting an answer. The Digimon in the generators murmured uneasily, but Ken couldn’t tell if was their approaching deletion that they feared, or that the Chosen Children were about to leave them here to their agonies.

“There may be a way to empty all of the generators at once,” he began to explain to the others as they walked through that surreal hellscape. As they approached their destination Ken saw that it was a terminal of some kind. As he began looking at the options it provided, his friends stood around him, glad to have their backs to the generators, but many feeling strangely guilty for not looking at those they had to delete.

For a long time there was quiet, no motion except for Ken’s hands on the controls, and every second was an eternity of horror. Then Ken had found it, the single option which would delete every imprisoned Digimon in the room. His resolve wavered. The hand poised over the fatal button was shaking violently.

_Do it without thinking. Get it over with. Set them free. Do it. Hurry. Do it! We need out!_

Ken screamed as his hand fell forward, onto the button, and after he screamed, he began to cry. There was a huge, low whirring sound behind them, and the Chosen knew that the tortured Digimon were gone. And as if Ken’s cry had broken all remaining restraints on their own emotions, the others broke down with him, some crying, or moaning, or collapsing to the floor as the empty room at their backs filled up with an awesome silence.


	66. The Pyramid

_“Old legends are hazy and ambiguous, and in historic times all attempts at crossing forbidden gaps seem complicated by strange and terrible alliances with beings and messengers from outside. There was the immemorial figure of the deputy or messenger of hidden and terrible powers – the ‘Black Man’ of the witch-cult, and the ‘Nyarlathotep’ of the Necronomicon.” - H. P. Lovecraft, “The Dreams in the Witch-House”_

“What are you trying to do?”

Anubimon had kept silent for as long as he could stand to before asking. The Dark Man had just returned to the temple, Anubimon’s former place of residence, after a long consultation with Wisemon atop the pyramid. Since leaving Sato’s headquarters through the portal Anubimon had watched the pair of them make preparations for what would seem to be a ritual of some magnitude. 

Wisemon’s book was ever open before him, and he seemed to have been reading something from it aloud as he traced with his feet a vast pattern in the sand that only he could discern, with the gray bulk of the pyramid at its center. The book remained open now, as Wisemon stood at the pyramid’s flattened summit, the place where Anubimon had held vigil over the long years, deciding the fate of all the data from deleted Digimon.

Anubimon hadn’t been back up to the pyramid’s top yet; he was unsure of whether the Dark One would object to his curiosity. His uneasiness had only grown since leaving the underground base, and what comfort there might have been in returning to his old home was swallowed up in it. Why here, of all places? At the top of the pyramid was the great black lens that provided a view into the World of Darkness, but it was for observational purposes only, and not a gateway, like the many Anubimon had been forced to open since the Dark One had come. What were these two searching for, and what horror were they preparing to enact?

Because it would be a horror. Anubimon was certain of it.

The Dark Man turned to him after the asking of the question, his black eyes glittering in the sun like the depths of desert wells, and smiled broadly.

“Why? Can’t you wait to find out?” A low chuckle. “I guess not. The excitement is in the air.” The lips closed over the Dark Man’s teeth, but the smile remained. “How much do you know about me, Anubimon? No, let me rephrase that. How much have you guessed?”

Anubimon didn’t respond. He really had little idea of who and what the Dark One was. All he had were surmises and evidence of its powers. The Dark Man had come strolling out of the empty desert night, a smile on his face and a miasma of malignance surrounding him. Wherever he went he wrecked whatever he came into contact with, and had thought nothing of tearing the Digital World’s overseer of death and rebirth from his duties to serve the purposes of evil.

_Could I have done more to resist?_ Anubimon wondered. _Was I too weak, or too afraid? I was threatened with death, with worse than death, and I know now just how capable he was of carrying out those threats. I have tried to be a fair judge. To fulfill the task entrusted to me, and expiate the evil of my predecessor. But who will undo the sins I have committed?_

“My association with Sato-kun is a temporary one,” the Dark Man was saying. “Always has been. But it looks like we’re going to be parting ways a little earlier than expected. Wisemon is the key. What exactly will happen? I’m not sure. But I do so look forward to finding out.”

“I don’t believe you,” Anubimon answered impulsively. If he hadn’t been so angry with himself, he would never have been so blunt. “You must have some idea, or you wouldn’t go to all this trouble.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” the Dark One said. He turned back towards the pyramid. “Come on, Anubimon. It’s your homecoming, isn’t it?”

Anubimon hesitated for a moment, then followed. He had a feeling that this creature was going to show him whatever it had planned, whether he wanted to see it or not.

“Of course I have an idea of what’s going to happen,” the Dark Man continued. “But this is still something of an experiment. It’s one that I’ve been planning to conduct for some time, once all the pieces fell into place.”

The Dark Man reached the platform at the base of the pyramid and stepped onto it. Seeing Anubimon lingering behind, he snapped his fingers twice. “Hurry up! Don’t tell me you’re afraid of your old workplace?” He laughed, and despite the heat of the desert Anubimon felt a chill shoot through him. Saying nothing, he joined the Dark One upon the platform, and in the next moment they were upon its identical twin at the top of the pyramid.

Wisemon faced them across the huge black lens set into the center of the roof. The great Book hovered open before him, and Anubimon couldn’t say for sure whether or not the impression that the red text had flashed black was due to the suddenness of their teleportation.

“All is ready, Dark One,” Wisemon said. “Shall I begin the search?”

“The search for what?” Anubimon asked, real fear beginning to squirm inside him. Since his unwilling recruitment he had lived under a cloud of disgust at the actions of Sato and his associates, and the things he had seen and heard had left him half-numbed with horror, but this feeling was different. Though still with no idea of what Wisemon was prepared to dredge up, Anubimon had a premonition that it would be something…what? Dangerous? Threatening? It wasn’t something he could put into words. But it was _bad_.

The Dark Man held up his hand to cut off any follow-up questions. “All in good time, Anubimon. Sato-kun is almost here, and I’d rather not have to repeat myself. Wisemon… Go for it.”

The Dark Man smiled broadly at his student, and in that moment Anubimon had a sudden flash of insight. _Wisemon is being deceived. He may understand the dangers from an intellectual standpoint, but he doesn’t truly comprehend the forces he will be interfering with._ His thoughts were interrupted when the Dark One’s hand fell upon his shoulder, giving him a jolt like an electric shock.

“Come on. Sato’s almost to the portal, and the view will be better from a distance anyway.”

Reluctantly, Anubimon followed the Dark One back to the panel that would transport them to the ground. He kept his eyes fixed on Wisemon as he walked, but the hooded Digimon was engrossed in the great lens, and didn’t notice.

Once they were again at the pyramid’s base, the Dark Man walked to about the point midway between the pyramid and the portal to the underground maze, before stopping to wait. Anubimon followed, but stopped out of the Dark One’s reach. The hairs on his shoulder where the Dark Man had touched it were standing on end, and the blazing sun couldn’t quite dispel the coldness that had settled into the muscle. The Dark Man paid no attention to him, looking instead at the portal and smiling like a kid waiting for the performance of a magic trick.

Anubimon could see one of the stone corridors of Sato’s base waving beyond the circular rift’s edges, and as the Dark One had predicted – _Not predicted,_ Anubimon thought. _Known._ – there was Sato Katsu himself approaching the desert. In another moment he was through, his outlines snapping into solidity like a mirage become real. He walked towards the Dark Man, eyes darting quickly about at the unfamiliar surroundings, and despite the human’s intent to hide it Anubimon could see the confusion and simmering anger in his expression.

Sato stepped up to the Dark Man and fixed his eyes on the other’s face. There was ice in his tone as he spoke, but the Dark One’s smile never faltered.

“What are you doing out here? What could be more important than being present and making yourself useful when the Chosen Children come right to our doorstep? I don’t know if you’ve forgotten, but we have an agreement.” Evidently he was about to launch into a reminder of what that agreement was when the Dark Man interrupted with a reply.

“I remember our agreement, Sato-kun, but something has come up which supersedes it. I’m sure you understand.”

“Supersedes it? What could possibly supersede it?”

“Really a bunch of funny coincidences,” the Dark Man answered. “You’d be surprised how much happens as a result of funny coincidences.”

“This is not the time for levity,” Sato said. “You wouldn’t be in this world if not for me, and I brought you here precisely for moments like these.”

“If you’re worried about the Chosen Children, rest assured they will soon cease to pose a threat.”

“I want to know what you’re doing,” Sato said through his teeth.

Anubimon watched the exchange with a kind of morbid fascination. It might be bad for Sato if he failed to control his temper in his excitement.

“Watch long enough and you’ll see exactly what I’m doing,” 

“I won’t be watching,” Sato snapped. “You’ll stop what you’re doing and focus on the problem at hand! They are here! Our opportunity is here!”

The Dark Man’s hands shot forward, clamping around Sato’s ribs and lifting him off the ground in one fluid movement. Sato’s eyes widened in surprise as he looked down into the Dark Man’s smiling face.

“I think you’re the one in need of a reminder, Sato-kun. I have other responsibilities and proclivities than the ones you marked out for me. Maybe you’ve forgotten what I represent – the name by which you called me here – and that there are forces out there that dwarf even _your_ master to insignificance.”

Sato’s feet hit the ground again, and he almost lost his balance as the Dark Man released him. He had felt the grip of terrible claws, but now he could see the Dark Man’s hands were as human as they had always been.

Anubimon watched as Sato tried to find his voice. All the blood had gone out of the man’s face. The Dark Man had turned his head so that he could see the pyramid behind him, and was still looking in that direction when Sato finally spoke.

“Is that what this is?” he asked breathlessly. His anger and excitement were gone, clearly replaced by unwonted fear. “Something…on that scale? But then…what are you…?”

“He’s blind and stupid,” the Dark Man said, turning slowly back to Sato, “But no one throws a bigger party.”

For a long moment Sato stared without saying anything, and Anubimon was beginning to think that he hadn’t heard, when finally he responded in an awed whisper, “It could destroy the universe.”

“Quite possibly, but we have plenty to spare.”

“I can’t allow that,” Sato said, though there was no force behind the words. “Everything I’ve worked for…”

“Sorry, Sato-kun. But that’s the way things are.”

The Dark Man gave an exaggerated shrug, then turned quickly about, facing the pyramid and giving vent to a burst of wild laughter that seared the eardrums. Anubimon, who had little idea what the two were talking about, but still with panic dancing inside him, automatically scanned the pyramid’s summit for Wisemon.

He was easy to spot. He hovered directly over the center of the pyramid, the Book grown to gigantic size beneath his feet, and Anubimon knew that he was staring directly into the black lens. Two orbs, yellow and red, hung near him in the air, and as the sky began to darken Anubimon could see the flashes of blazing color shooting up out of the lens and refracted by the orbs.

Whatever the Dark Man had been working towards since that night when he had taken in Wisemon, they were about to see it happen.


	67. The Summons

_“Surely, I mused, it was pleasantry_  
_Devised by one who did not truly know_  
_The Elder Sign, bequeathed from long ago,_  
_That sets the fumbling forms of darkness free.”_  
_– H. P. Lovecraft, “The Messenger”_

The Chosen rushed through the halls of the underground base. No Digimon impeded their progress – with the possible exception of Sato Katsu, the base seemed to be derelict. It had taken them a while to recover sufficiently from the horror of what they had been forced to do in the generator room, but now the search was on for the man who had forced them to do it. The Digimon hadn’t yet evolved again. Most of them had already done so many times today, and were feeling the strain.

Instead of Armor evolving and carrying their partners up to the balcony, Hawkmon and Patamon had gone as scouts, hoping to find an alternate route. It hadn’t taken long; the only way off the balcony was down a short corridor to a staircase which descended to the base’s primary level. Presumably Sato was still on their floor. Regrouping, the twelve interlopers commenced what they hoped was a systematic search of the base.

For the most part, the partner Digimon all felt much the same about the situation. They were sickened by what had transpired, and were determined to find Sato and stop him from committing fresh outrages. They were worried about their partners, of course, but the trauma the Chosen Children had suffered could not begin to heal until Sato Katsu was no longer a threat.

Even the peaceable Wormmon shared that conviction. At the same time, however, his resolve was tempered with unease. On his own, a human like Sato would pose little danger to them, but Wormmon and Ken knew that there was another – a man felt before seen, a smile in the dark. They had only encountered him once, and then only briefly, but the experience remained vivid in their memories.

Of the other Chosen Children, all were understandably shaken, and to some degree angry. There was Daisuke: dogged, done with discussion, prepared to go for the enemy without letting up. There was Takeru: nemesis of darkness, ready to avenge, having pushed questions of restraint to the back of his mind, where they rested uneasily. There was Iori: still in the process of recovering, appalled at himself and the world, propelled forward now by the thought of the girl he had unwittingly exposed to danger. There was Miyako, subconsciously trying to avoid her own fears by wondering at the fear she saw in Ken.

And then there was Hikari. Like the others, she had been overcome with horror at what had been done in the generator room, though at least there was the comfort of knowing that all of those poor Digimon were beyond suffering now, awaiting rebirth into what would hopefully be a better life. Also like the others, she was mentally preparing for the confrontation with Sato Katsu, the man from her nightmares. How could she not? For several nights he had come to her, to enjoy her fear. She had met him now in plain reality, but if anything the terror he inspired had grown now that she and her friends had seen what he was capable of.

But there was something else that was bothering her. Whoever he was and whatever his goals were, Sato Katsu was not the source of the evil they were fighting. He had said so himself, of course, but even if she hadn’t believed him, she had seen the black room at the bottom of the stairs. Seen it, heard it, felt it. That room was a gateway to the World of Darkness. It was the place she had tried so hard to forget, only to be reminded by the nightmares, the place where a person’s worst fears took form, and shadowy things waited to use her for awful purposes.

Would the Chosen Children’s next struggle be with that world? Could they even fight something like that? Under more ordinary circumstances, neither she nor any of her friends would have hesitated to answer yes. After all, they were the Chosen Children. Together they could accomplish anything… couldn’t they? But nightmares cannot be fought, and everything was beginning to seem nightmarish now.

She would let it wait. Daisuke seemed to have forgotten about the black room, at least temporarily, and if either of their partners had kept it in mind they didn’t mention it. For now, Sato was the priority. Perhaps she was worrying herself unnecessarily. If the Dark World’s human and Digimon agents could be stopped, the Chosen Children could bury it here. Maybe this time it wouldn’t creep back into their lives…maybe.

***

The Chosen had not had any expectations about how brief or long the search for Sato would be, but they also hadn’t expected it to end as it did: suddenly, as they rounded a corner and saw the circular hole in space. They could only make out a general idea of where the portal led to, since everything beyond the threshold was swirling and wavering, but they seemed to be looking at a large building in the desert. The group slowed its pace and stopped in uncertainty.

“What is that?” Miyako asked.

“It’s a gate, isn’t it?” said Patamon, “But it looks different…”

“You think that’s where that guy went?” Daisuke asked, taking another few steps forward. The others didn’t say anything. It could be, but they had no way of knowing until they stepped through, and a few of them were worried that they might not be able to return if they did.

“Something’s happening,” Takeru said, breaking the silence. It was an understatement. It was clear, even through the portal, that something huge was taking place. There were brilliant flashes of color, some in hues they had never seen before. These were accompanied by strange sounds, muffled as they passed through the rift in space-time, though closer up they must have been a cacophony of rhythmless pounding and screaming musical tones.

“What is that!?” Miyako repeated, and no one could think of an answer for a few moments. Then Tailmon spoke up.

“Nothing good, if it’s connected to this place.”

“He’s gotta be there,” Daisuke said, “Come on, V-mon, let’s get him!”

V-mon shouted his assent and the pair of them ran forward. Ken attempted to stop them with an outstretched hand and a cry of “Motomiya!”, but by then they were already through the portal.

Takeru was next to step forward.

“Come on,” he said to the others. “We can’t ignore this, and we have to stay together.”

Hikari nodded and prepared to follow. The others hesitated a moment, but not for long. As a group, they followed Daisuke out into the desert.

***

Two things hit Daisuke immediately as the tingle of the gate faded away and he found himself on the other side. First was the heat. After the chill air of the underground base, the desert seemed impossibly warm and dry, even under the strange hazy darkness that now floated between the sand and the sun. Then there was the noise, grand and jarring. He wasn’t sure where it was coming from – it seemed to be all around him. Bursts of color were everywhere as well, but for the most part the phenomena centered on the large gray pyramid before him.

V-mon stood beside him, too much in awe for a moment to do anything but gape at the scene. Daisuke himself was just coming out of his own shock when he had a sudden odd sensation. For a moment he was certain that he had left his friends behind him, and that they would not come after him, but were standing back and smiling as the gate closed on him, glad to finally be cut off from the idiot who masqueraded as their leader.

The impression was so strong that at first he couldn’t bring himself to look back over his shoulder, but when he did so with a jerk he could see them coming forward, into the chaotic desert. Ken ran up to his friend and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“This is bad, Daisuke! This is…” He stopped. Because he wasn’t sure what it was. A strange conviction passed momentarily through his mind that if he only waited, and watched what was unfolding, he would recover everything he had forgotten since his infection by the Dark Seed. His old life would force its way back into his head, and it would hurt, it would be a flood of painful memory. Then the thought passed as quickly as it had come, leaving him unsure of what to say.

The others had just as much trouble processing what was happening. Odd thoughts and odd feelings flitted through their minds as they heard the terrible sourceless music and watched the play of the colored light.

 _No, not light,_ Takeru thought. _Whoever is causing this doesn’t have anything to do with light. Those are just colors. They don’t have any brightness to them._

“There’s something up there!” Hikari said, shouting over the noise and pointing to the top of the pyramid. Squinting against the glare they could all see it: a figure in midair. Someone or something was hovering above the pyramid. Bolts of strange force seemed to be arcing out of the pyramid’s roof, dancing around the figure before dispersing in different directions. As the group watched, a change began to occur. It was like looking through the portal again – solid things began to waver or stretch, as if the fabric of reality was coming slowly loose, drawn towards the pyramid. There was something else, too. Maybe it was just an illusion, but it looked to the observers on the ground that the sky above the pyramid had taken on a subtle pattern, a distortion of the air which gave the impression – only half visual – of a vast five-pointed star with a symbol at its center, like a great, glaring eye.

***

Anubimon stood in the squared-off arch which served as one of the entrances to the temple where he had once lived in peace. He kept his feet planted on the ground, his arms pointed stiffly at a downward angle, and his wings closed. Something like wind whipped around him, but he had the feeling that it was not really wind, that instead little ribbons of space were flying by him as they were sucked in by the looming something in the sky. It was as if the force above the pyramid was in the process of slurping up the world like a bowl of noodles.

He could sense Sato behind him. The human’s teeth were clenched and his eyes were wide with an incredulous anger – a much different picture than that presented by the Dark Man. Of the three, he was the only one who stood unfazed by the pull from above and the riot of sound and color. He wore a wide, unmoving grin of anticipation, but still it seemed to Anubimon that he could hear the Dark One’s voice screaming excitedly above the noise.

_He’s found it! He’s found it! The Elder Sign will open the gate! Watch what will happen! Watch! Watch!_

They watched. It was a hard thing to tear one’s attention away from. But for a while there seemed to be no change, only the continuance of the sounds and colors. The impression of the Dark One’s shouts faded, though Anubimon could see that his expression didn’t change. Were things not going as anticipated? Anubimon shifted his gaze back to Wisemon, knowing that the Dark One never gave any indication of its real emotions, if it had real emotions. The hooded Digimon still floated above the pyramid and the black lens, hanging amid the flashes and bolts of color now emerging not only from the lens but the great Sign in the air. But…

***

Something was wrong. Wisemon didn’t know what, but he knew that there was a problem. He tried to focus, to hold on to his waning energy. The Book was still below him, and he was still reading it aloud, though his words were drowned out by the cosmic din that surrounded him. Below the Book’s pages he could see the massive lens, and with it could look through the Dark World and the worlds beyond to the last world, the world of the Dark One, but it was still dim, and not growing any clearer.

Was the Book not enough? Was there a still higher level that he hadn’t yet reached? Secrets that he had yet to master? If so, what would happen now? He had come so close to the ultimate, to knowing who he was, and the answer to every question that had plagued sentient beings since the birth of time. What would happen instead? That was the question before him now, perhaps the last he would ever ask. But it gave him some comfort, now at the end, to know that this question, at least, was about to be answered.


	68. Masks

_“My most horrible vision was connected with an idle question I had asked myself the day before when looking at the great carven riddle of the desert and wondering with what unknown depth the temple close to it might be secretly connected. That question, so innocent and whimsical then, assumed in my dream a meaning of frenetic and hysterical madness…what huge and loathsome abnormality was the Sphinx originally carven to represent?” – H. P. Lovecraft, “Under the Pyramids”_

At a casual glance, it was a peaceful Odaiba morning, about to make the transition into a peaceful Odaiba afternoon, perfectly safe and normal. There had been a slight earthquake some time earlier, but no aftershocks had followed. The only abnormality was the police presence still lingering around a certain Odaiba Mansion apartment, from which part of the wall was missing. On a lower floor, Koshiro was still stationed in front of his computer, reviewing all the police and news data that he could access, looking for patterns.

The assaults he had charted by time and place, including the one made on Ugaki Chiho, had all occurred in Tokyo on the previous night, most of the victims being teenaged girls. No two assaults had taken place at the same time, and when distances were taken into account it was just possible that all had been committed by the same perpetrator.

Who that perpetrator might be, no one could say. Details were hard to come by. Those of the victims who were talking couldn’t give much in the way of description, though what he found reinforced Koshiro’s belief that whatever had been loose in the city the night before, it wasn’t human. And he was not alone. The word “Digimon” was starting to pop up everywhere, from police transmissions to forums to the personal webpages of conspiracy fanatics. It was starting up again, the cloud of questions and rumors that had last been raised after the battle with Armagemon in Tokyo Bay. But this problem had not been so quickly solved. People were angry, people were scared. Takeru’s mother and the other “Digimon critics” would have their hands full in dealing with the public, especially since there were probably aspects of the situation that their children had kept from them.

However serene the city might appear to be, things were beginning to unravel behind closed doors and worried expressions. The situation would only get increasingly out of hand. Daisuke and the others were the best hope that Koshiro and his old friends had at the moment. If they could put a stop to things in the Digital World, it might be the end of the crisis. At the very least, it would allow all twelve Chosen Children to focus on eradicating the threats amassing in the human world.

Koshiro closed a couple of the windows he had open so that he could see the Digital World’s map again. A little gasp escaped him. Daisuke and the other five had moved. Not in a slight way, but far across the world map, a distance that they shouldn’t have been able to cover since he had last checked on them. That in itself was surprising enough, but it wasn’t what chilled him. In the vicinity of the younger Chosen Children a massive distortion had manifested, larger than what BlackWarGreymon had left in his wake in 2002, but with a pattern that Koshiro had never seen before, differing from the distortion that had emanated from the Digimon Kaiser’s derelict base when it had threatened to explode.

There was a tone, and Koshiro flicked his eyes over to a message received from Gennai. He opened it and began to read, then got to typing, first a reply to Gennai, and then a warning which, he was afraid, would be of no use.

***

Daisuke’s goggles were protecting his eyes. The others had to shield their faces as best they could from the stinging sand, but even with their reduced vision they could tell that whatever the swirling chaos was above the pyramid, it was growing stronger. Crazy bolts of color lanced out from the great symbol in all directions, and there was a persistent tugging as space was sucked towards it. The pounding and half-musical whining was growing louder. Time was running out.

Daisuke turned towards his partner and screamed at him over the noise. V-mon couldn’t hear, but he could make out that the boy had his D-3 at the ready. With a conscious effort V-mon evolved, emerging from the light that surrounded him as XV-mon. Whatever property of the underground base had prevented normal evolution, it didn’t apply out here in the desert. XV-mon stood in front of his partner, shielding him somewhat from the anomalous pull as Daisuke made his way over to Ken.

Ken had his arm raised to his forehead, trying to peer through the swirling sand and midday darkness to get a better look at what hung over the pyramid, when he felt Daisuke’s hand on his shoulder.

“What do we do?” Daisuke yelled into his friend’s ear. Ken didn’t answer immediately. He could just make out the figure that Hikari had pointed out above the pyramid. Whether it was the cause of all this, he didn’t know, but it was certainly a focus for what was happening. A memory from the previous autumn flashed through his mind – staring up from the floor of the Kaiser’s base at the dark energy leaking from the reactor, Paildramon bursting through the wall to stop the flow with Desperado Blaster.

He turned to Wormmon, who squinted up at him and nodded. Ken raised his D-3. Soon Stingmon stood where Wormmon had been, and turning to Daisuke Ken could see that his friend knew what they were going to try. As they held their Digivices aloft before them, a spiral of blue and green met in the sky.

Paildramon looked at the humanoid thing over the pyramid. He was now above the worst of the sand, but the inward pull was much harder to resist. If he wasn’t careful, he would get a very close look indeed at what was happening. Already he was being drawn forward, as if on an unseen conveyer belt. He had time enough to wonder who and what it was that hovered over the pyramid, but didn’t have the luxury of hesitation. The organic cannons at his side swung forward, and he fired.

***

Wisemon felt the first impact of the energy bullets as they tore into his body, but the sensation was a faint one, because all of his attention was focused upward. For him the Elder Sign and the sky of the Digital World were already gone. What he could see now was the world Outside – beautiful, in a way, and terrible beyond description. He was completely deaf; the sounds, no longer muffled, had obliterated his hearing. But that was alright, because he had new senses now, and an infinity to take in with them. And in the awful wonder of the moment, he did not even notice that he was dying.

***

Anubimon would have trouble recalling the order of events later. He saw the twin streams of energy find their target. He saw Wisemon torn into pieces and vanish in deletion, and may or may not have wondered dully whether the data should be destined for the Dark Area or the Village of Beginnings. He understood that the Chosen Children had arrived in time. He watched the Elder Sign vanish, and could not be sure if it had ever really been there. He heard something, which might have been a scream of disappointment or the sudden shriek of absolute silence.

These were the impressions he had, and when they had passed he was left standing in the doorway of his old place of residence, with the sun shining down on the sand beyond the threshold, and Sato and the Dark Man standing off to the side. Sato was looking at the back of the Dark Man’s head, breathing heavily. It was plain that he didn’t know what to say or how to feel. The Dark Man himself had stopped smiling, and though he kept staring at the place where Wisemon had been, there was no trace of emotion on his face.

For a good while the tableau held. Then the Dark Man took a deep breath, drawing the air in slowly and exhaling equally slowly. He walked out of the temple. Sato took a few steps after the Dark Man, glanced at Anubimon without really seeing him, and managed to ask the Dark Man’s back, “What are you going to do?”

But the Dark Man just kept walking.

***

“What was that?” Daisuke asked, breaking the silence as Paildramon landed in front of him.

“I don’t know,” the Digimon answered in his composite voice. “But it looks like it’s over now.”

“That was… a gate, wasn’t it?” Ken asked no one in particular. The others just looked at him dumbfounded. Then Takeru gave a start as he remembered something.

“That man, where did he go?”

“Did…he really come out here?” Miyako wondered.

No one answered her. It was Hikari who spoke next, but she was addressing her partner. “What’s wrong?”

All the children noticed then. The partner Digimon had tensed up, staring off towards the pyramid and the other, nearer building. Paildramon also had turned around. Tailmon’s claws were at the ready. “It’s coming,” she said.

The Chosen Children followed the gaze of the Digimon, and then they could see him, walking swiftly towards them over the sand. In spite of the distance, there was an odd shortening effect, so that they could make out his features as he approached with unusual clarity. Miyako had seen him before, in the fog of a nightmare, but even Ken, who had only seen him in darkness, knew him immediately. It was the other, the Dark Man, wearing a smile that was wide, burning, and terrible. In fact, the grin was too wide to be anything real; the whole face was like a Halloween mask just about to slip off.

The Dark Man stopped and crossed his arms in front of his chest. All the dimness that had vanished with the Elder Sign rushed back into the day, drawing about the Dark Man like a cloak. The shadows that went with him everywhere deepened, until they could see only his eyes glittering out of the black shape he had become.

**“Mask Change!”**

Suddenly the blackness expanded, flowing outward like mercury, clogging up the air. A massive shape was taking form, eating away at the light to make room for itself. The Chosen Children and their partners watched in horror as the immense bulk loomed up and began to grow more defined.

From a distance, no less horrified, Anubimon also watched, but his fear was rooted deeper than theirs, because even before the shape had settled, he knew what it was going to be. He knew what new form the Dark One was taking, because it was too perfect, too terribly perfect, to be anything else. Anubimon had not always presided over deletion. There had been one before him. His predecessor was gone now, deposed by the Four Holy Beasts after its cruelty had left angry regrets to amass as Apocalymon, but its legacy remained with those old enough to remember.

The Dark One’s transformation was now complete, and Anubimon could see that he was right. Its black and gold armor glowed in the sun. Sphinxmon. AncientSphinxmon. The ruler of death returned to the world of the living.

The Chosen Children stared at the thing before them. There was a terrible majesty to it. The unblinking crimson eyes and the grim set of the mouth inspired the same awe as the statue of Giza. Then the solemn visage split in a grin of needle-sharp teeth, and the illusion was broken.

**“AncientSphinxmon!”** said the voice of the Dark Man, magnified a hundredfold in volume and power. “Now we’ll have some fun.”

Ken had gone very pale. “His true form?” he wondered under his breath.

“No,” answered the sphinx, though it could not possibly have heard. “I am no more Digimon than I am human. I am beyond your comprehension, Chosen Children. My true form? The sight would blast you to ashes!”

Yes, AncientSphinxmon was a borrowed form, and not the Dark One’s true form, Anubimon thought. For a moment he had been afraid that this truly was his predecessor resurrected, but that fear had been replaced by one less definite. Not a true form, but it was perhaps a truer form. It was a clearer expression of the Dark One’s power, and its inhumanity. Anubimon knew that beside this thing his own strength was nothing.

_It is up to the Chosen Children to thrust this abomination back into the dark,_ he thought. _Please be careful, young ones._


	69. The Eclipse's Descent

_“I have haunted the tombs of the ages,_  
_I have flown on the pinions of fear,_  
_Where the smoke-belching Erebus rages;_  
_Where the jokulls loom snow-clad and drear;_  
_And in realms where the sun of the desert consumes what it never can cheer.”_  
_– H. P. Lovecraft, “Nemesis”_

Sato stood behind Anubimon. The winds had left him physically disheveled, but mentally he was once more in control of himself, and he looked on AncientSphinxmon with eyes that were cold and calculating. Doubtless the Dark One could destroy the Chosen if he felt so inclined. Was he challenging them out of rage? It wouldn’t do to have him kill them. But where did his loyalties lie, if anywhere? Now that Wisemon had been dealt with, was their bargain still in place?

For now, Sato would do nothing but watch and wait. To misjudge the situation could have fatal consequences. At the very least, he would finally see the Dark One’s powers unleashed.

As these thoughts were passing through the mind of Sato Katsu, AncientSphinxmon stood immobile, watching the Chosen Children and their Digimon, silent. The Chosen themselves had recovered somewhat from the shock of its appearance, and were wondering what to do next. Though they knew nothing of this thing’s motivations, they had a good idea of its intentions – there was a fight coming.

“Well?” the Dark One asked. “Don’t tell me I’ve scared you speechless.”

“I’m not scared,” Daisuke told it, raising his voice to make sure he was heard. “We’ve fought monsters like you before.”

The sphinx laughed, a sound so unnatural that it sent a chill through each of them.

“Have you really?” it asked. “You’ve had your moments in the past, I suppose. Motomiya Daisuke, the boy whose simplicity defeated BelialVamdemon.”

“How do you know about that?” Daisuke asked, ignoring for the moment what he thought might be a veiled insult.

“I know all sorts of things. I could lay all your secrets bare, every one of you, but I’m a little tired of talking.” AncientSphinxmon bowed its grinning head, and set its tail twitching back and forth like a cat. “You’ll want to evolve for this.”

“Let’s go, Paildramon!” Daisuke shouted.

**“Paildramon, Ultimate Evolve! … Imperialdramon!”**

Dragon and sphinx now faced each other, roughly equal in size. Size had nothing to do with power, but still it heartened the Chosen Children somewhat that they were no longer dwarfed by the enemy.

 _Size isn’t enough, though,_ Ken thought. _It’s right – we never have fought something like this before._ It occurred to him that he regretted not having Koshiro’s Digimon Analyzer there at that moment, on the chance that it could pick up something, anything about this unknown enemy that they could use to their advantage. _No, I’m not being honest,_ he thought. _I’m really wondering whether it would say anything at all._ His memories of that first night flitted through his mind, when he had first begun to have trouble sleeping, and had heard the soft, amused voice in the darkness. There was something different about this thing that was neither human nor Digimon – he had felt it from the beginning. And ever since then he had been subconsciously awaiting this meeting…dreading it.

Around him, the sunshine glare of the desert was augmented by the light of evolution, as the rest of the Chosen Digimon made themselves ready for battle.

**“Armadimon, Evolve! … Ankylomon!”  
** **“Patamon, Evolve! … Angemon!”**  
**“Hawkmon, Evolve! … Aquilamon!”**

**“Aquilamon!”  
** **“Tailmon!”**  
**“Jogress Evolve! … Sylphimon!”**

**“Ankylomon!”  
** **“Angemon!”**  
**“Jogress Evolve! … Shakkoumon!”**

“Now we’re getting somewhere!” the Dark One exclaimed gleefully. “Who wants to take the first shot? No one? Then allow me.” The beast jumped, spinning in the air, its metal-pronged tail whipping round like a flail and smashing into the side of Imperialdramon’s armored head. The dragon Digimon slumped sideways, dazed by the impact, and AncientSphinxmon landed on its four paws, shaking the sand with such violence that the Chosen Children had trouble keeping their balance.

“Come on, come on!” the Dark One said. “It’s more fun for everyone if you fight back.”

“Then try this!” Sylphimon shouted. **“Top Gun!”**

 **“Nigimitama!”** The hatch in Shakkoumon’s waist opened, unleashing a swarm of bladed disks.

The first attack struck AncientSphinxmon’s face, but did nothing to change its smile. Shakkoumon’s disks it batted aside with one huge forepaw.

“Try harder,” it said, chuckling. “Even a regular old AncientSphinxmon would be at the Ultimate level.” This time the tail shot up over the back of the sphinx’s body like a scorpion’s stinger before unleashing twin beams of reddish light. The attack caught the Dark One’s opponents off-guard. Sylphimon was struck by one and was flipped head over feet in the air, while the other found Shakkoumon before he had a chance to absorb and disperse the energy.

Then Imperialdramon had risen up again, the massive blades on his claws gouging at the Dark One’s front. For a moment the air was filled with sparks and the clang of metal on metal. Then the Dark One leapt backwards.

“That’s more like it! Now me! **Dark Blast!** ”

AncientSphinxmon’s mouth opened wide, and with its roar came a beam of the purest black, slamming into Imperialdramon. He dug his claws into the sand, but still the impact sent him sliding backwards. If the attack hadn’t been so brief he would have crushed the Chosen Children beneath his hind legs. The parts of him where the beam had struck were enflamed with pain, but he raised his head so that he could see himself reflected in the sphinx’s ruby eyes.

“Daisuke… Ken-chan… He’s amazingly strong…but…”

“ **Daaaark Blaaast** ,” AncientSphinxmon called, lazily drawing out the words.

“Imperialdramon!” Daisuke shouted.

“I know. I won’t lose! **Imperialdramon, Mode Change! Fighter Mode!** ”

When the beam of darkness came again it was met by a wall of light – the Positron Laser’s shield function. This time the Dark One didn’t let up, releasing blast after blast, sending pulses through the beam. Imperialdramon fell to one knee as his energy shield threatened to break up. His allies made their move.

**“Aramitama!”**

Shakkoumon’s eye beams drilled into one side of AncientSphinxmon’s head, and the rate of its Dark Blasts began to falter. Sylphimon came diving through the air towards the enemy, pink energy gathering along its outstretched arms.

**“Dual Sonic!”**

The attack struck one of the glassy red eyes, and the Dark Blasts ceased entirely as AncientSphinxmon’s head jerked away. Its teeth were still exposed, but now in a snarl instead of a smile.

“Now!” Imperialdramon shouted. **“Positron Laser!”**

The laser found its mark, and for a moment the Dark One’s form was obscured by a cloud of dust.

“We got him!” Miyako exclaimed. “We hurt him!”

She was the only one to speak, but there was a new light in the eyes of all the Chosen Children. Then all their uneasiness returned as they heard the Dark Man’s magnified voice emerging from the cloud.

“You can hurt my body, children, but you’ll never hurt me.”

“We’ll see,” Imperialdramon said. The mouth of the dragon’s head that formed his chest plate opened, and from it a cannon emerged. Light began to gather in its lens.

**“Ion Blaster!”**

A bullet of energy shot forward, scattering the dust cloud and knocking AncientSphinxmon off its feet. It kept going, propelling its target along with it and smashing both against the pyramid before exploding into a dome of destruction. The attack was perhaps not meant to be used at such close range. The outward rush of air knocked the Chosen Children off their feet, and Anubimon, who was nearer the blast, escaped unharmed only because of the barrier he had put up at the last moment, incidentally saving Sato Katsu’s life.

It was hard to see anything in the aftermath of the attack. Debris and tiny particles of data from the pulverized pyramid and damaged temple filled the air, creating a thick gray fog. Imperialdramon turned quickly to look at his human friends.

“Guys, are you alright? I’m sorry. I lost my temper.”

“No, it’s alright,” Takeru said, as he and the others got back to their feet. “But what happened to the enemy?”

“He couldn’t have survived that, could he?” Iori asked.

The Chosen Children and Digimon peered into the haze, trying to make out what lay within it. For a while, there was silence. They started to hope that it was over. But then they began to perceive an angry red glow within the swirling cloud. It grew brighter, and they saw that its source was the crimson eyes of AncientSphinxmon. It walked slowly forward. One gold wing had been snapped off, and the smile was broken, but it was still a smile.

“I can feel it,” Hikari whispered. “This…evil.” It wasn’t just her. It may only have been physical and emotional exhaustion, but each of the children had the same sensation of overpowering menace. Imperialdramon, Sylphimon, and Shakkoumon advanced towards the enemy as it began to speak.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had the pleasure of so much exercise,” the Dark One said. “But that’s all for today. **Necro Eclipse!** ”

Nothing obscured the sun, and yet as the words left the sphinx’s mouth the day began to darken, as though an eclipse truly were happening. Everything continued to dim until all that was left was a sort of ruddy half-light. Combined with all the dust and sand in the air, it turned the desert into something like a vision of the apocalypse. AncientSphinxmon rose up on its hind legs, a slow but constant motion, as if it were underwater, or submerged in blood.

The Chosen Children stood stock still. They felt paralyzed as they watched this thing unfold before them. A chill descended on their hearts and bodies, and the same thought occurred to each of them – _This is what dying must feel like._ Across the desert dusk their partner Digimon had also stopped moving, hanging motionless in midair. The sphinx reached its full height, and the mouth opened. It roared, or wailed, and the children’s blood became as ice. Something, a wave of force, rushed outward with that cry, and as it reached the three Digimon each of them split into two and devolved.

For a moment the Chosen Children could see their partners hanging in the air – V-mon, Wormmon, Hawkmon, Tailmon, Armadimon, and Patamon. Then with sudden savage swiftness AncientSphinxmon crashed back down to all fours, releasing another wave of energy, darker and faster than the first. It swept over the partner Digimon, and at first there was no visible effect. Then, one by one, they began to burst into data, and vanish.

Another moment passed, just long enough for the Chosen Children to comprehend what they had seen, without believing it. Then the darkness rushed forward, choking them, blotting out all else.

***

Sato Katsu stood outside the worst of the dust cloud, trying in vain to peer into it. He had seen the dark outlines of AncientSphinxmon pass by him as it strode forth from the ruined pyramid, but by the time the day returned to its former brightness he could see nothing in the gray veil of debris. Whatever that last attack had been, he knew that it had ended the battle. When the Dark Man decided that a fight should be over, it was over. But there were a number of possible outcomes, and only one of them would suit Sato’s plans.

He and Anubimon stood there, staring into the haze, keeping silent. Then they heard the familiar voice of the Dark Man calling out of the dust cloud.

“There, I’ve done your work for you.”

Now Sato could see the outlines of a human shape coming towards him. He tried to choke out the question he wanted to ask.

“Are they…?”

“If you’re smart, Sato, you’ll kill them now,” said the Dark Man, emerging into plain view. “They’re not beyond your abilities yet, but they’re getting there.”

In the wake of Sato’s relief came euphoria as he realized what the Dark Man had just accomplished. He bared his teeth in a sneer, one of the rare instances when his expression approached a smile. Once more he was in control of the situation.

“You know I can’t do that,” he said. “You know what I aim for, by order of the High Priest. To take our twelve enemies, the Chosen Children – to bind them, break them, and leave them in darkness. And now, I have six – fully _half_ of the entire group – and you tell me to kill them. No,” he said, as the Dark Man stopped walking to look at him with an amused air, “I have much bigger plans for them.”

“Have it your way,” the Dark Man answered, shrugging and resuming his walk, passing Sato by. As he did so, a shadow passed over Sato’s expression.

“Then I can have things my way?” he asked, turning to watch the Dark Man’s back. “After what’s happened here, can I still trust you?”

“Can you?” said the Dark Man, not looking back.

Some of the subdued anger was coming back into Sato’s face, and when next he spoke it was with a sharper tone.

“Nyarlathotep!”

The Dark Man stopped walking.

“…Yes?”

“If I asked you to go… would you?”

The Dark Man turned around, grinning again, and walked back towards Sato.

“Of course, Sato-kun. I’m not an ingrate, or a slacker. I was given a wonderful opportunity, but I’ve missed it now. We’re right back where we started. So you tell me…” he said, his voice low, and his face almost serious as he stopped and met Sato’s gaze. “Are we done here?”

“…No,” the human answered, after a long moment of hesitation. “I still have use for you.”

The Dark Man smiled broadly. “Good! I was hoping you’d say that. You know, I’m a little glad now that things didn’t go as I had intended. I just can’t wait to see what happens next.”


	70. Responses

_“After that was silence. I know not how many interminable aeons I sat stupefied; whispering, muttering, calling, screaming into that telephone.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Statement of Randolph Carter”_

By the time Sato and the Dark Man had concluded their discussion, the dust had largely settled over what was left of the battlefield. Anubimon could see the Chosen Children lying in the sand, unconscious. He had to fight against the impulse to go to them, help them. He had come to know Sato and his methods too well to doubt that they were about to suffer horrifically. But he also knew that, for the moment, he was no use to them. Any show of resistance from him now and Sato or the Dark Man might decide that he had become a liability. And if he wanted to help the Chosen Children when the time was right, he had to stay alive.

In an attempt to ease his mind he turned from the prostrate children to the ruins of the pyramid. Imperialdramon’s attack had left very little of it standing, and the top was wholly demolished. The large black lens had probably disintegrated in the explosion. He thought of Wisemon, whom he had met so recently and watched die so suddenly. The strange Digimon’s great Book was destroyed. Either it had been a part of him, and had vanished when he was deleted, or it had survived only long enough to be blasted out of existence by the Ion Blaster.

Perhaps there was some small comfort in what had happened. The Dark One had failed at something. Things had happened which he had not anticipated. It took a weight off of Anubimon’s shoulders that had been with him for some time now. Powerful though the Dark One was, he was not infallible. Maybe, with luck, he could even be beaten. The death of Wisemon meant that the world was safe for a little while longer.

_But now the Dark One can turn all of his attention upon them,_ Anubimon thought. With a heavy heart he looked out again towards the motionless Chosen Children.

***

Sato, too, had his sights on the children, and the expression on his face was little short of predatory.

“How long until they wake up?” he asked the Dark Man at his side.

“As long as necessary,” answered the other. “So, since you aren’t going to put an end to them, what _do_ you plan on doing?”

“First we need to relocate,” Sato said, beginning to walk towards where his enemies lay. “Somehow they discovered where the base is, and as long as the other six have their Digivices we can’t be sure that they won’t find a way to mount a rescue. I’ll decide later what, specifically, to do with these Chosen Children.”

“Oh, come on, Sato-kun. You’ve been looking forward to this day a long time. You already have an idea of what you’re going to do.”

“Regardless of the details,” Sato said, “They will suffer. And their suffering will help to further our goals. Chances are they interfered with the generators, in which case they may prove indispensable. What we lose in quantity we can make up for in quality. I should have thought before of how much more powerful human emotions are than those of Digimon.”

He continued walking, and began to draw near the children. After he finished speaking his expression became more thoughtful, and his eyes darted about for a moment.

“Something wrong, Sato-kun?”

“Their partners left no Digitama. But I suppose that isn’t too odd.” He turned to the Dark Man. “You’re sure they won’t regain consciousness?”

“Not until I allow them to.”

“Then I want you to get in contact with whatever is left of our forces in the Digital World. Tell those of them who can reach File Island to go there and take command of the Village of Beginnings. I don’t want anything getting in or out. We must keep the children from being reunited with their partners at all costs.”

“I’ll get going then, and I’ll be taking Anubimon with me to make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Excellent,” Sato said, looking again at the Chosen Children. He repeated it as the Dark Man began to walk away. “Excellent.”

It was then that he heard an electronic tone, coming from where one of the children lay. He knew the boy to be Hida Iori, age 10, partner of Armadimon, holder of the Digimentals of Knowledge and Sincerity. A dull silver object was lying there, partially hidden by the boy’s body – one of the D-Terminals that the Chosen Children used to keep in contact with each other. Sato got a foot under Iori’s limp body and rolled it over. Picking the device up and flipping it open, he saw that there were two yet-to-be-opened emails from Izumi Koshiro.

_The distortion is gone,_ read the second. _Is everyone okay?_

Sato’s lips twisted in a sneer as he began to compose a reply.

***

Koshiro had just finished talking to Gennai, who was using the resources at his disposal in an attempt to discover the cause of the massive distortion and what had happened to it. Neither of them believed it to be a coincidence, especially since the other Chosen Children had somehow been present for it. This was the enemy at work. The distortion had faded very suddenly, but there was no telling what damage it might have caused beforehand. Koshiro’s map showed that Daisuke and the others were still in that area. Their safety was the thing of most importance, but at the same time Koshiro’s scientific curiosity was beginning to eat away at him, and it was for both reasons that he grabbed the D-Terminal the instant he heard the message arrive.

He read it through once with confusion. What was Iori talking about? Then he saw that the greeting was not the one Iori customarily used, and that the body of the message was unsigned. It had certainly come from Iori’s D-Terminal, though if Iori was the one who sent it then he was playing a cruel prank. But from what Koshiro knew of Iori, and after all that had happened, he was led towards a different conclusion, and it chilled him to his core.

_Izumi-san:  
At the moment, your friends are unharmed, but I can assure you that they will not remain so. I congratulate you on finding us, but please do not waste your time searching for us again. You and your colleagues will be joining us shortly._

For a while Koshiro could only sit there, staring at the screen, paralyzed. Should he reply, just in case? Or try another of the group’s D-Terminals? He looked again at the map on his computer. They still hadn’t moved. Then, there might be time to get to them. But how? Only the D-3s were capable of opening the Digital Gate. Even if he told the others— The others! Taichi and Yamato. They had _siblings_ out there. Memories of Taichi flashed briefly through his head, tears in the cathedral, anger in the sewers. And Miyako and Iori were out there, and Daisuke, Ken…

Koshiro willed himself to calm down. He would be no help to any of them if he couldn’t think straight. If he and his friends couldn’t reach them, who could? The answer came to him immediately, and he reopened the window he had been using to chat with Gennai.

_Koshiro: Gennai-san, something has happened to Daisuke and the others. Do you have anyone to send to them?_

There was a moment of waiting before the answer came.

_Gennai: Benjamin is the closest of my partners to that region, but it will take some time for him to get there. What’s the situation?_

_Koshiro: I’m not sure, but I just got mail from the enemy on Iori’s D-Terminal. Have you learned anything about the distortion?_

_Gennai: Just that it was localized to that area. It seems that a gate was opened, but not a gate to any of the worlds we’re familiar with._

_Koshiro: I see. Please send Benjamin to the area immediately._

Much as he hated it, that was all that he could do to help the Chosen Children in the Digital World. Exiting the chat, Koshiro began deliberating on whether or not he should let the Taichi and the others know. Technically he didn’t know for certain that something was wrong, but his heart told him that there was. If he kept what he knew to himself for now, he might save them some worry, but did he have a right to keep them in the dark? They might be angry with him later. But it would make no difference if they knew now. There was nothing they could do.

He was about to settle on waiting for developments when another thought came to him. If whoever had sent him the message had Iori’s D-Terminal, that person might have the other five D-Terminals as well. What if they sent a message to Taichi or Yamato? It would probably be better if they first heard of what had happened from a friend, and not this mysterious enemy.

Well, if they were going to hear the news from him first, he had better hurry. He felt that it was really something that should be done in person, but there was no time. The message he sent simultaneously to the five D-Terminals was a kind of compromise:

_Everyone, something bad has happened in the Digital World. The Chosen Children there may be in danger. Please come back to Odaiba Mansion so we can decide what to do._

And with the message sent, he could only sit there and wait for something to happen. Was there anything else to do? …Yes, there was, but it was not up to him to do it, at least not until it had been discussed with the others. The parents would have to be notified.

He thought about his own parents. His father was at work, and his mother was in the kitchen fixing something for Tentomon to eat. They had adopted Koshiro, something that had once deeply disturbed him. During that first adventure in 1999 he had realized that he was not a mere parasite, and that his adoptive mother and father loved him as deeply and sincerely as any biological parent. How would they react if he were to vanish under these circumstances?

He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about any of this. It was like one of the nightmares come to life.

That thought took him back to one of the dreams he had had the previous night. Now it seemed eerily prophetic. In it he had been sitting alone at a desk, in a small room without doors or windows. On the desk lay his D-Terminal, and periodically it would beep to let him know of an incoming message. Every time he would open it, hoping to find a reply to one of his pleas for help, and every time he found instead a photograph without caption, the pictures ranging from grotesque to horrifying.

He was called back from the memory when his real D-Terminal beeped. For a brief moment he had the chilling conviction that the new message was a photo, sent to show him exactly what terrible thing had happened to his friends in the Digital World. Then reality asserted itself once more. The D-Terminals could only send text, of course, not pictures. His lack of restful sleep was beginning to tell on him.

Checking the message, he saw that it was from Sora.

_Yamato and I are on our way,_ it read. _What has happened?_

_Please hurry,_ he replied. _It will be easier to explain the situation all at once._

He considered adding, “There’s still hope,” but it occurred to him that under the circumstances it would only provoke additional worry rather than soothe their concerns. After sending the message as it was, he looked at the screen of his computer. The six younger Chosen Children were still where they had been, but how much longer would that be true?


	71. Relocation

_“There were gates to be passed, and strange dimensions to traverse. And so [he] moved through awful abysses of pulsing, fearful darkness…” – Henry Kuttner, “Hydra”_

Anubimon was dragged along as the Dark Man went about his business, effortlessly slicing open space-time so that the two of them could step from the temple in the desert to a large cavern where the division of Cyclomon waited. Then another incision was made in reality, allowing the Cyclomon access to File Island and the Village of Beginnings. Anubimon expected that the Dark Man’s next step would be to return to where Sato was, but instead he opened a portal to a place that Anubimon did not immediately recognize.

It turned out to be a forest. The trees grew thickly together, so that it was dark in spite of the day’s sunlight. A faint, cold wind was blowing, carrying with it the smell of wet plant life. Anubimon had lost sight of the Dark Man, and at first he couldn’t find him in the deep shadow. Then he picked out the subdued sparkle of the Dark Man’s eyes, and a moment later he could make out the outlines of the body, leaning against a thick tree trunk.

“Did I just waste my time, Anubimon?” the Dark Man asked.

“I don’t know what you mean,” the Digimon answered evenly.

“Yes you do.”

Anubimon waited for the question to be repeated, but instead the Dark Man only flashed his smile and started on what seemed to Anubimon to be an unrelated topic.

“Amusingly,” the Dark Man said, “it is Sato’s caution that leaves his plans vulnerable. He’s decided to take one risk in order to avoid another. I hope he’ll succeed, but the outcome is certainly in doubt. Well, we’ll just wait and see, won’t we?”

The Dark Man raised his hand in a gesture Anubimon recognized as the motion used to open a new gate. Before the Dark Man could finish creating the portal, however, Anubimon interrupted with a question of his own.

“Why did you need me?”

The Dark Man stopped. Anubimon half expected to be reprimanded, but instead the Dark Man just smiled and waited for him to continue.

“You can open gates between worlds on your own. You could have brought the towers of darkness to the Digital World without having to use my power. You could have left me in peace.”

“I could have,” the Dark Man answered. “Of course I could have. But it wouldn’t be very fun, would it? Bringing the Dark Towers into this world is a full-time job, especially at the rate those children go through them. I have more important things to do.”

He waved his hand, and into the dark coolness of the forest came the heat and brightness of the desert through a newly opened gate. The hole in space expanded, swallowing the Dark Man and Anubimon both before shrinking and closing on the forest, now behind them, like a disembodied mouth.

Anubimon watched the Dark Man step forward to announce his presence to Sato Katsu, who stood nearby over the fallen Chosen Children. As he watched, Anubimon’s fear of the Dark One slowly transmuted itself into a hatred the depth of which he had never felt before. Everything he had suffered in recent times had been unnecessary. The Dark One didn’t need him. Anubimon had been involved in all of this as a result of simple, pointless cruelty.

With the dawning of his hatred came a realization, one that tied together the things that the Dark One had said back in the forest. The Dark One was not an idealist, or a crusader for evil, as Sato was. It wanted to be entertained. Anubimon and Sato’s organization were just sideshows in the carnival of horrors that the Dark One had built for its own amusement. It was a disturbing thought, of course, and yet…yet…

Before he could put what he felt into words, his thoughts were interrupted by the Dark Man’s voice.

“So then, Sato-kun. All is ready. I suppose you’ve given some thought to where you’ll relocate?”

“Yes,” Sato said. “But I haven’t made a decision.”

“Then may I make a suggestion?”

Sato nodded.

“We don’t know if the Chosen Children with the old Digivice can get to the Digital World. Probably they can’t, but they always seem to have another miracle at the ready, don’t they?”

Sato made a short, disgusted sound in his throat, but didn’t say anything.

“But there’s a place that the old Digivices have never opened a gate to.”

“Yes,” Sato said. “The World of Darkness was my first thought. But it has its own inconveniences, such as finding Digimon that can properly function there.”

“You can leave recruiting to me,” the Dark Man said, “As you always have.”

Sato didn’t reply. He gazed for a long time off into the empty distance, his expression unreadable. The Dark Man broke the silence with a chuckle.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“That has nothing to do with it,” Sato said, giving the Dark Man a sharp look. “If your recommendation is the Dark World, I have no objections.” He let his eyes fall and linger on the bodies of the Chosen Children. “I look forward to sharing it with them.”

***

“We should have gone with them!” Taichi said. “We should have been there to help stop what was happening in the Digital World!”

For a while no one responded. Koshiro was the one to reply, and he knew before he said anything that his opinion would be an unpopular one.

“We had things to do here, to make sure no one else got hurt.”

“And how do we do that?” Yamato asked, before Taichi had another outburst. “We don’t know where this thing is. All we can do is wait for it to attack again!”

“But that attack could have been on one of our family members,” Jou reminded him.

“What’s this about family members?” Taichi asked. “Hikari and Takeru are out there right now!”

“Patamon and the rest of the Digimon could be in danger as well,” Gabumon added.

“Gennai’s allies are on their way to help,” Koshiro said.

“But what if they’re too late?” Yamato demanded.

“We can still find them,” Koshiro said. “No matter where they’re moved to in the Digital World, we can track them. The enemy probably doesn’t know this. We won’t lose them.”

“What if they’re – what if they’re killed?” Taichi asked.

“Well,” Sora said in a small voice, keenly aware of how Yamato was feeling, “They wanted everyone alive, didn’t they?”

“But… but they could still hurt them,” Mimi said. “What if they…”

“I’m going!” Taichi said. “I won’t let that happen!”

“But we can’t open the gate with our Digivices,” Koshiro reminded him.

“We did it once,” Yamato said. “On New Year’s Eve last year.”

“The circumstances were different,” Koshiro said, looking increasingly uncomfortable. He knew it must seem as though he was arguing against taking action to save the other Chosen Children.

“What’s different?” Yamato asked, raising his voice. “We needed to get there, and we got there! We can do it again.”

“Alright,” Koshiro said quietly, giving up. He stood aside. Taichi approached the computer and thrust his Digivice out towards it.

“Please!” he said. “Open!”

For a long while there was no reaction. Yamato stepped up with his own Digivice at the ready, and still nothing. The pair’s faces darkened.

“We Digimon could go, couldn’t we?” Agumon asked.

“And not be able to evolve?” Taichi asked, glaring at him. “It would be pointless.” He turned back to the closed Digital Gate. “Come on!” he growled through clenched teeth. Koshiro took a sad glance at the computer, then something caught his eye and he leaned forward for closer inspection.

“What is it, Koshiro?” Yamato asked.

“They’re gone…”

“What?”

“On the map. Takeru-san and the others are gone!”

There were exclamations from the others. “What?” “Where are they?” “What happened?”

“Please let me check,” Koshiro said, gently moving Taichi and Yamato out of the way. He performed a quick search – a function that he had created and installed after the earthquake that Daisuke’s, Miyako’s, and Jou’s siblings had been involved in. But it came up empty. Unless there was a bug in the program, Daisuke and the rest were no longer in the Digital World.

“They’re gone,” he repeated incredulously. “I can’t find them on the map.”

There was a moment of confused silence before everyone started talking at once. Yamato quickly made himself heard above the others.

“What does that mean?”

“The program seems to be working right,” Koshiro said, turning away from the screen, “But they aren’t in the Digital World anymore.”

“But what does that _mean?_ ” Taichi asked. “Are they back in the human world?” His eyes widened as an idea struck him, and he pulled out his D-Terminal to send his sister a message.

“We can’t say that for certain,” Koshiro said, “But that’s the most likely explanation.”

“So there’s a chance,” Sora said, shifting her eyes to Taichi as he watched his D-Terminal intently, “That some of them may be safe.”

“There’s a chance,” Jou said, “But it would be weird for them not to let us know that something had happened to Iori.”

“I’m afraid Jou-san is right,” Koshiro said. “It’s most likely that they have all been captured and moved to the human world.”

“Then it will be harder to find them,” Yamato said, his fists clenched at his sides.

“It’s probable,” Koshiro said, “that they are somewhere in the city or close to it, wherever the dark Digimon are stationed. Perhaps… ah!” The others looked at him in confusion. “Lilithmon,” he told them. “Lilithmon told us that she was preparing something for us, and that she would contact us tonight. There’s a possibility that—”

“That she’ll lead us right to them,” Taichi finished for him. No longer looking at the D-Terminal, his expression was hard and determined. The others were thinking what he was thinking. This was an opportunity to put an end to everything – by defeating Lilithmon, rescuing the other Chosen Children, and finding Chiho’s attacker.

_But could it really be that easy?_ Koshiro wondered. The enemy wouldn’t run the risk of leading the Chosen directly to them unless they had absolute confidence in winning. It was just as likely— But there Koshiro stopped himself. There was still a possibility of everything turning out fine. He had just said so. He looked at the faces of the others, and as his eyes passed over Yamato, the latter gave a barely perceptible nod. Takeru was no longer here, but they had to keep hope alive.


	72. Onii-chan

_“If the child gives the effect another turn of the screw, what do you say to two children—?” – Henry James,_ The Turn of the Screw

It would seem like the longest day of their lives. Until they were contacted by Lilithmon’s promised messenger, there was nothing they could do. There were no further reports of mysterious sexual assaults – apparently the thing that had committed them was a creature of the night. But with things as they were, that was hardly a relief. If the younger Chosen Children were indeed back in the human world, and there was every reason to believe that they were, any monster that was not causing trouble in the city could even now have them at its mercy – whether Lilithmon, or Chiho’s attacker, or some unknown entity just as diabolical.

If only one person had been unaccounted for, things would have been bad enough, but instead there were six humans and six Digimon whose current status was unknown. Of the six humans and six Digimon that remained, each of them naturally had some friend – or family member – that they were particularly worried about, but it was the cumulative effect of so many missing that did the most to make the day a hellish one.

And among these larger concerns, there was also the question of what to tell the parents of the missing children. They had faced the problem before, of course, but never under such trying circumstances. When Hikari had been stranded in the Digital World, Taichi had felt comfortable with telling his parents that she was just over at a friend’s place, since Daisuke and Takeru had been there to find her. During the final confrontation with the Kaiser, a feigned camping trip had sufficed to explain the absence of the younger six.

But now things weren’t so simple. Now all the parents of the missing children knew about the Digimon, knew that there were dangers around every corner, and knew that their sons and daughters were embroiled once more in battle. They had to be told something, but there was no real way of predicting what their reactions would be.

In the end it was decided that they would be given half of the truth. For now they would be told that their children were staying overnight in the Digital World in an attempt to put a stop to the current invasion of the human world. Whether they would accept the explanation was in doubt, but it was a start. With luck the events of the night would see the missing Chosen safe once more, and no further contortions of the truth would be necessary.

That was the plan. As Taichi approached his own apartment, he tried to focus sufficiently to practice what he would say to his parents, but other thoughts kept breaking his concentration. He had been assigned to explaining the supposed situation to his own family and to the Motomiyas, whom he knew socially. But his thoughts weren’t with his parents or the Motomiya family, but with his sister and his friends. _They_ were the ones in danger, the ones that he could do nothing to help.

There had been no reply yet to the mail he had sent Hikari. He was beginning to worry that no reply would ever come. In the four years since their first adventure in the Digital World, Taichi had come to be less overprotective of his little sister, as she grew older and her general health had improved. Thinking back now, he could see the irony in how he had treated Yamato’s franticness in the search for Takeru on File Island, only to act much the same way later when it was his own sibling in danger. The terrible mistake he made in second grade, when he had inadvertently brought Hikari to death’s door, had become a distant memory, but this situation was bringing it back into sharp focus.

Now he stood outside the apartment. Once he opened that door he would have to explain himself to his mom. As he had done so long ago in that hospital hallway, he would face the consequences of his negligence. Agumon waited patiently at his side, without rushing him. When Taichi finally did open the door, and looked into the kitchen to see his mother, for a moment he forgot everything that he had been planning to say. The full truth, as he saw it, wanted to spill out all at once.

_Mom, Hikari’s gone and it’s my fault. I let her go outside and they took her, and we may never see her again. They’re doing terrible things to her and it’s my fault, all my fault, all my fault._

“Taichi,” Yagami Yuuko asked. “What’s wrong?” Her son had such a strange look on his face, with his mouth open and his eyes staring. He looked very pale.

“Ah…” he answered, beginning to recollect himself. “Oh, uh, I wanted to…tell you about…something that’s come up.”

“Alright,” she said, looking at him curiously. “What is it?”

“Hikari and the others are going to be in the Digital World for a while,” he said. “I just…didn’t want you to worry.”

“How long is a while?” she asked.

Taichi swallowed. “Probably just overnight. They think they’ve found a way to stop more Digimon from showing up in the real world.”

“It’ll be dangerous, won’t it?” she said, and it didn’t come out like a question. Taichi suddenly felt like crying.

“Yeah,” he said, not really thinking about what he was saying. Then he caught himself, and hurried on, “But they’ll be okay. It’s nothing that they haven’t been up against before.”

She looked at him doubtfully. Over the past few years, Yuuko and her husband had become perfectly comfortable with their children’s partner Digimon, and come to have confidence in the ability of both children and Digimon to deal with any threats that arose, but something of Taichi’s desperation was coming across despite his efforts.

For his part, Taichi was about ready to drop the charade. It would be easier to get everything into the open without any deception. For an instant he felt as though it might actually be a relief to bring everyone else’s world crashing down around them, as his was. He might really have done it if his mother hadn’t turned away from him at that moment to start scrubbing at the breakfast dishes still in the sink.

“I hope this ends soon,” she said. “The news has been full of terrible things happening all over the city.” She raised her head to gaze out the kitchen window. “I hope Hikari and the others are careful,” she murmured.

Taichi had turned away, moving with Agumon toward his bedroom. He didn’t trust himself to say anything else.

***

Yamato’s sole responsibility was to talk to his mother. The Inoue and Hida families lived in the same building, but Koshiro, who, along with Miyako, was a member of the school’s computer club, would be contacting both of those families via telephone. Yamato was glad at least that he didn’t have to deal with people he didn’t know very well. He thought about Daisuke’s sister Jun, and how she had once detected him lying about Daisuke’s whereabouts. Hopefully Taichi would be able to conceal from her the greatness of the danger her brother was now in.

Takaishi Natsuko was still in her office when Yamato arrived at her apartment. She would have to be leaving later that afternoon to give an interview about the recent attacks and to what extent Digimon might be involved with them, but that was still a few hours away. She hoped that it would be enough time to prepare. Maybe she should have started sooner, but a combination of restless nights and constant work on other projects had left her feeling unusually drained.

She was glad when she heard the apartment door open, because that meant Takeru was home, and she needed to ask him some questions that would likely be brought up at the interview. She looked up from the computer, but her greeting died on her lips when she saw that it was her elder son standing in the doorway.

“Yamato…”

It was easy for him to detect the surprise in her voice and face. It wasn’t often that he visited his mother at home, especially when his brother wasn’t there. He had thought about knocking instead of just walking in, but decided against it. He may not live here, but he wasn’t a stranger, or a first time visitor. On some level, this was his home too. Now that he was inside, his next dilemma was what to say. But Natsuko spoke next.

“It’s good to see you,” she said. “What brings you over?”

Yamato’s instinctive reaction was to resent the question. Couldn’t he visit his mom without needing a reason to do so? But at the same instant any resentment he might have felt disappeared as he remembered why he had come, and how unfair his reaction was. There were more important things at hand than his sometimes awkward relationship with his mother.

“I wanted to tell you something,” he said. After a moment he added uncomfortably, “Takeru wanted me to tell you.”

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

Yamato had to fight back a sickened chuckle. Yes, something was very wrong, but he wasn’t here to tell her about it.

“Takeru and his friends are going to be spending the night in the Digital World.”

“All of a sudden?” she asked, raising her eyebrows “He didn’t say anything about it when he left.”

“They decided on it after they got there,” he answered. “They thought it would be better to make sure they were finished with things there before they came home again.”

“But…don’t they need supplies, or anything like that?”

“We’ve…” Yamato looked down at his shoes. He was starting to regret all this. “…got things all worked out.”

“It just seems strange that…” She stopped. Was it really so unbelievable that Takeru would do something like that without letting her know in advance? He’d had a lot of practice keeping things from her. For seven months of the previous year he had been an active participant in a war for the Digital World, and she’d known nothing of it. But even so this new turn of events seemed sudden and unusual.

That led her to Yamato. Was he telling the truth? Or was he hiding something of his own? It had been a long time since she had lived with him, and she couldn’t read him well. He seemed a little awkward, he wasn’t making eye contact – but then, that wasn’t unusual, in her experience. It made her sad. All in all, she hadn’t been much of a mother to him. Apart from the divorce, her workload kept her from building a better relationship with him. It would have come in handy now.

“A-Anyway,” Yamato said, breaking the silence, “I should get going.” He turned to go, but Natsuko couldn’t just let him leave like that.

“Wait,” she said. “Couldn’t you stay a little longer? We could get lunch, and maybe talk a bit more about what’s been going on.”

“Maybe later, Mom,” he answered. “Right now I’ve got some other things I have to do.”

“Well… if you’re sure.”

Yamato was at the door when she stepped into the hallway and spoke up again.

“Yamato?”

He turned and looked at her, and something in his eyes made her uneasy. The expression looked strange on someone so young.

“Takeru is really alright? You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?”

“He’ll be fine,” Yamato said. “I promise.” And with that he hurried out of the apartment.


	73. Making Plans

_“No longer did I think him merely mad; for I knew the thing which he sought and could attain; and I remembered, with a new significance, that line of Baudelaire’s poem – ‘The hell wherein my heart delights.’” – Clark Ashton Smith, “The Devotee of Evil”_

Within hours of the Dark Man’s rendezvous with Sato in the desert, the transition between worlds was complete. It was a part of the World of Darkness that Sato had never been to before, far removed from the monochrome ocean. On a barren plateau a windowless black structure stood. From a distance, without any other object for reference, its size would have been impossible to judge; it was only up close that its vast extent became apparent.

The interior was as labyrinthine as the headquarters they had left behind, with the added unpleasantness of being completely unlighted. With the majority of its space left unoccupied, audible sounds were rare, and yet it was easy to imagine hearing stealthy slitherings and scuttlings in the blackness. There were no decorations, or anything to offer comfort – nothing to relieve the inhumanity of the place. What it could originally have been used for was a mystery, and any occupants it might once have concealed were gone. It stood silent and empty, as dark and cold as despair.

Near the center of the structure was a domed room, the largest in the place. Here sat Sato Katsu upon a block of stone protruding from the floor. He was staring at a computer screen which had just then been installed in the room. On it was displayed a map of the Digital World, looking empty without the six colored dots that represented the Chosen Children. As a precaution, all dimensional gates had been closed, but the now derelict base in the Digital World was being monitored, and supplies could be retrieved from it as required.

The Dark Man stood nearby, looking perfectly at home. His eyes twinkled with more than the reflected light of the computer screen, and they followed Sato as the human stood up and walked over to a nearby mesa growing out of the stone floor. On it, twelve small electronic devices were arranged in two rows – the captured D-3s and D-Terminals. Sato put a finger on the D-Terminal adjacent to Hikari’s pink Digivice and slid it aside.

“What will you do with these?” the Dark Man asked, indicating the Digivices.

“I’m tempted to destroy them,” Sato answered. “We’ve seen many demonstrations of their power to disrupt the forces of darkness. The Homeostasis learned well from their mistakes with the original Chosen Children. But although these Digivices are dangerous, there’s a possibility that they can be made useful to us. Or, in the case of this one…” He picked up Ken’s black D-3. “…be reclaimed for its original purpose. Yes…for now there is no reason not to leave the Digivices intact.”

“And the children?”

“For the moment, I will leave them intact as well. There could be a hitch in the plan if they died too soon.”

“Won’t your god want them?”

“That will also come later. For now, they’re mine.” He set Ken’s Digivice down, picking up Hikari’s D-Terminal instead. He put it into his pocket, and faced the Dark Man. “Tonight, we may get the other six as well. Lilithmon is arranging an ambush for them in their world.”

“Your world, you mean?”

“Not anymore,” Sato muttered before quickly returning to his original train of thought. “The odds are good that she will succeed. Their luck can’t hold forever. The six Chosen Children we’ve captured have defeated two Digimon of the Demon Lord class before, but only due to special circumstances which their elders cannot recreate. That reminds me… You did talk to Demon, didn’t you? Or were you too focused on your scheme with Wisemon?”

“Oh yes, I saw him,” the Dark Man answered. “Before I opened the final gate I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to meet a Digimon of his stature. He had some interest in my offer… but I don’t think you’ll be able to make him your ally. He doesn’t think much of you and your master.”

“That may be, but we won’t give up just yet,” Sato said. “And what about those new recruits you promised me?”

“Oh, I’ve found just the thing, and I think you’re going to like them,” the Dark Man said. “The Digital World is crawling with mercenaries and devotees of darkness, if you know where to look. I was searching specifically for those that could have some non-fatal fun with your prisoners. And for the grunt work, I’m going to make some more of these!”

He waved his hand, and the room grew slightly brighter as a gate opened to the base Sato had so recently abandoned. A Digimon stood there, dressed in some baggy, rubbery gray material, its face concealed by an apparatus resembling a gasmask.

“Adorable, isn’t it? They’re called Troopmon. This one I created myself, but I think I can convince Anubimon to help me out in future.”

He walked over to it and grabbed hold of one of its puffy forearms, which deflated like a balloon as he squeezed it, causing the three-fingered “hand” and upper arm to bulge outwards.

“Nothing in it!” he said delightedly. “Well, almost nothing. Just the life force of a Digimon that I’ve stuffed into this suit. And don’t worry; they can keep their shape when they want to.”

“Won’t they be hard to control?” Sato asked, looking at the thing doubtfully.

“Nope! That’s the best part. It’s just energy in there. No personality from the original Digimon. In fact, no personality at all! No fear, no free will, they never get tired, and they never talk back. Not nearly as entertaining as humans or other kinds of Digimon, but certainly useful.”

“I see,” Sato said. “How many will you make?”

“However many we need. That’s the real beauty of it, Sato-kun. Think about it. With Anubimon’s power, any Digimon destroyed for resisting your grand revolution can be remade as a mindless Troopmon, instead of being reborn to become a further nuisance.”

“Yes…” Sato said, turning things over in his mind. “We can simultaneously eliminate a threat and create a new servant. I approve. It’s another method of hastening the inevitable triumph of Darkness. And at last the day will come when only its worshippers and its slaves remain, and we will see the end of Light’s whole miserable charade.”

“Kutouruu futagun,” the Dark Man murmured.

“Fungurui muguruunafu Kutouruu Ruruie ugahunaguru futagun,” Sato responded automatically, in monotone. He refocused his eyes on the Dark Man. “What will you do now?”

“I was about to ask you the same question,” said the Dark Man, closing the portal on the Troopmon with a flick of his wrist.

“First I’ll be giving the other Chosen Children added incentive to go after Lilithmon,” Sato said. “I’ll turn my attention to the others later, once we have all of our resources assembled.”

“How characteristically systematic of you,” the Dark Man said. “But it must be hard to hold back for so long.”

“I assure you that there will be no holding back when the time is right,” Sato answered. “Maybe I would start now, but my own satisfaction must come after the plan as a whole.”

“And should I wake them up in the meantime?”

“We’ll wait. It would be best if their physical stamina is relatively high.”

“I see. But what about their mental stamina? Their emotional stamina?”

“You already know the answer to that,” Sato said. “For the past five days and nights we have been working tirelessly to break down their spirits. If we have done our job well, they are on the verge of collapse. Not merely the events of this past week, but _all_ the painful trials that came before, have been necessary steps to prepare the Chosen Children for what will begin on their next awakening: their final submersion in a darkness that they can never escape.”

The Dark Man was smiling at him, but Sato wasn’t looking at the Dark Man or anything else as he continued speaking. He seemed oblivious to the world, staring at nothingness, trembling with a mixture of black emotions.

“Up until now, they have always had someone to fall back on, and share their burdens with. A family, a human friend, a partner Digimon. And while they had that someone there was no way to defeat them. But now it’s over! When they were together, the light of each fed that of the others. But get them alone, in the dark…make them afraid…hurt them…rip them away from all they’ve known and loved…and we’ve won. There was never any other ending. Never. _Never_.”

Sato stood still a moment in the silence that followed the end of his speech. Slowly he became cognizant once more of his surroundings, and looked down as he fished the D-Terminal out of his pocket. He raised his eyes to where the Dark Man had been standing, but the Dark Man was no longer there. The Dark One had relocated to a distant part of the building, far enough away to prevent Sato from hearing it as it howled with laughter.

***

Taichi couldn’t keep still. He paced around his bedroom, with the door closed so that his mother wouldn’t notice how strange he was acting. It had been all he could do since returning from the Motomiya residence. Yamato’s concern about Jun had turned out to be unfounded; she wasn’t home. She’d remembered to take Caprimon with her this time, so the only person Taichi had to interact with was Mrs. Motomiya, who, like his own mother, was a full-time homemaker.

She’d believed what he told her about Daisuke’s whereabouts. Taichi didn’t know it, but she had been much more worried about Jun. As a teenaged girl, Jun fit the description of the victims of most of the previous night’s assaults. She’d been allowed to go out with her friends, on the grounds that it was broad daylight (and, “I’m almost out of high school!”), but with strict instructions to come home when the sun began to set. Mrs. Motomiya felt less concern on behalf of her son. His Digimon had always protected him before, while Caprimon’s usefulness as a guardian was yet to be seen.

Taichi had left as soon as he decently could. He didn’t want to put up with anybody at the moment, least of all Daisuke’s vapid mom. So he paced, while Agumon stood silent in a corner of the room looking worried and miserable.

Taichi desperately wanted a better way to release his pent up stress and energy. The speed and violence of soccer would be perfect, but he wasn’t in a mood to play games, and didn’t dare to leave his apartment. The thought had occurred to him that he and his friends had no idea as to how Lilithmon or her promised messenger would contact them, or where. Those of his fellow Chosen Children that he had messaged on the subject were of the opinion that the enemy knew where they all lived, and couldn’t fail to deliver their invitations.

But Taichi couldn’t dismiss the possibility that if the messenger missed one of the Chosen Children at home, it might decide to forget about the whole thing, leaving him with no clues in the search for Hikari and his missing friends. The Searea apartments would be the most likely place for the messenger to stop at, and he needed to be there when it arrived. He also didn’t want it to come across his parents unprotected and decide to take advantage of the situation.

When his D-Terminal beeped he pounced on it and tore open the cover. There was a new message there, from Hikari’s D-Terminal, but that didn’t mean it was from Hikari.

_Yagami-san:  
By now I’m sure that your fears have been confirmed. Your sister and friends are indeed in our custody. However, they look forward to seeing you tonight when you accept Lilithmon’s invitation. Be sure to attend, with your fellow Chosen Children. The others will suffer until you do._

He read it, or rather glanced through it. Clearly it was nothing more than what he had feared and expected. What had he been hoping for? “Iori was just kidding?” “Never mind, you can have them back?” He brought his fists down on the surface of his desk and sat there, hunched over it and the D-Terminal.

“Taichi?” Agumon asked in concern, crossing the room to him.

He would have slammed the desk again, but didn’t want his mom to hear and wonder what was going on. Instead he stayed still as the first hot tears began leaking from his eyes.

“I’m so stupid, Agumon,” he said. “I – I…” But he couldn’t think of a way to finish his sentence.


	74. Interval

_“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,_  
_Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before”_  
_– Edgar Allan Poe, “The Raven”_

Sometime before the dawn of the previous day, BlackTailmon had returned to her new home after another night of exploring the human city. She still found this world fascinating – it was about as different as a place could be from Arkham and its shadowy woods. Things had turned out well for her. Besides having been spared whatever the head human had done with the last Witchmon, she’d been put on what amounted so far to an exhilarating vacation. No one had required her to do anything yet. She didn’t know or care what the end goal was for this mysterious group of which she was a part, and for all she knew there would be no business on this trip that might interrupt pleasure.

The first sign that this would not be the case came when she stepped off the elevator to find the human called Hiraga waiting for her in the basement’s central computer room.

“Oh, it’s you,” he said. “That other Digimon wanted to see you.”

“Which one?” she asked. Her tone and the look she gave him was casual, but she couldn’t help being a little suspicious. It wasn’t that she was afraid of the Digimon that had entered this world with her, but she knew too much about their power and personalities to be fully at ease when dealing with them.

“The only one that’s left,” Hiraga answered. “Lilithmon, I think?”

“What does she want?”

“I’m not sure, but she has a job for you. I think she’s in the subbasement.”

BlackTailmon looked at the door he indicated, but didn’t move towards it. Instead she asked: “What do you mean Lilithmon is the only one left?”

“I don’t know the details, but I guess that the others were killed by the kids’ Digimon.”

“Did Lilithmon finish them off?”

“No,” he said.

“Why not?” BlackTailmon asked when it became clear that Hiraga wasn’t going to explain further.

“You’ll have to ask her yourself,” he answered. “I don’t know.”

“Not very useful, are you?” she said, before heading for the door.

She just caught his muttered reply of, “Not these days,” and then she was through the door and making her way down to the subbasement. It was a part of the building that she hadn’t been to before. She preferred the outdoors, and hadn’t cared to mingle with Lilithmon’s demons, none of whom she had met until the day she first entered the human world. Past the door that Hiraga had pointed out, she didn’t know what path to take, but it was pretty easy to identify the rooms that had housed the demonic Digimon – dimmer than the rest, and occasionally bloodier.

Eventually she found the stairs leading down. The subbasement was darker still, but posed no challenge for her eyesight. Darkness usually didn’t. So it came as a surprise when she reached the foot of the stairs, rounded a corner, and found herself staring into pitch blackness. As she stood there squinting at it, a pale hand emerged, the visible part of it sharply cut off where it touched the wall of black, like a drowned corpse rising from a lake at night. It turned over with a flourish, and the black veil melted away to reveal Lilithmon.

The expression on her face was a blend of malevolent smile and smoldering rage, and BlackTailmon’s muscles tensed as she prepared to be attacked. Instead, Lilithmon relaxed immediately, apparently seeing her small visitor for the first time. Her smile returned to its usual air of calm superiority.

“There you are,” Lilithmon said with incongruous sweetness. “Just in time. I’m almost finished getting ready, and it’s about time to close this place off.” She slowly bent forward to scratch lightly at the top of BlackTailmon’s furry head with her left hand. “So, little kitty, what do you think?”

BlackTailmon looked past Lilithmon, but could only see more blackness. She didn’t pull back from the hand petting her, but its presence was irritating. BlackTailmon had no use for displays of affection, and she knew that Lilithmon was just pretending anyway. Lilithmon might look like a young woman, and act like a girl, but at heart she was a Demon Lord – inhuman, and evil to her core. “You wanted me for something?” BlackTailmon asked.

“I did,” Lilithmon said, straightening. “I had a little setback last night thanks to those Chosen Children, so I’d like them to come over tonight.”

“So… what are you doing down here?” BlackTailmon asked, her reserve overcome by her curiosity.

“I’m redecorating for the party,” Lilithmon answered. “This place was too small for what I have in mind, so I expanded it a little.” The other Digimon must have looked doubtful, for she went on to explain, “It’s easy for me to get things done when I’m under stress. Rage can open up many doors for me. Hope I didn’t startle you too much.”

“I still don’t see what you want me to do,” BlackTailmon said.

“I want you to go invite the Chosen Children and their Digimon, of course.”

BlackTailmon gave Lilithmon a questioning look, unsure if she was being serious. Lilithmon smiled back.

“I don’t think they’ll be very happy to see me,” BlackTailmon said at last. “Didn’t they destroy the others last night?”

“They did,” Lilithmon said, still smiling. “But they won’t hurt you. They want to find me just as much as I want them to come. You’ll be their best chance of hunting me down.”

It occurred to BlackTailmon for the first time that that unchanging smile was unsettling. Lilithmon seemed mellow, but studiously so, and it was easy to see that her true face was the one BlackTailmon had first seen: she was angry, and thrilled by the idea of her coming revenge. And with that little realization came the feeling that it wouldn’t be a good idea to argue the point any further.

“Alright,” she said. “Where can I find them?”

***

The sun hadn’t reached the horizon before four of the Chosen Children stood or sat with their partners on the plaza bordered by the Searea apartment buildings. It had sunk behind the taller buildings, providing the illusion of twilight, but true night was still over an hour off when Taichi, Yamato, Sora, Mimi, Agumon, Gabumon, Piyomon, and Palmon gathered outside to await Lilithmon or her messenger. Taichi had ordered Koshiro and Jou to stay at Odaiba Mansion, on the off chance that the invitation would be sent there instead. They hadn’t objected – it seemed like a sufficiently logical plan.

When the eight at the Searea apartments could think of something to say, they talked. Other times they just stood around or, as was often the case with Taichi, paced aimlessly. The knowledge of an upcoming battle had steeled them somewhat. To an extent, they’d set their concerns for the missing Chosen aside. Worry had been converted into anger, and with it came a consuming impatience.

Eventually Agumon had stopped trying to keep up with Taichi. There didn’t seem to be anything he could say to improve the situation, so he plodded over to where his fellow Digimon were talking.

“How’s Taichi doing?” Gabumon asked as he saw his friend approach.

“Not good. He’s been real worried and angry all day. I try to cheer him up, but I think he just wants to be left alone.”

“Maybe if we had brothers or sisters we could understand better,” Gabumon said.

“But we do have friends,” Piyomon said. “And I’m sure worried about Patamon and the others.”

“Mimi cried a little, earlier,” Palmon said. After a little embarrassed pause she added, “Well, I mean, I did too. It was hard not to, then.” She looked over to where her partner sat on a nearby bench, but for the moment the only emotion in Mimi’s face was tiredness as she stared ahead at nothing. Earlier Palmon had offered to listen to what the girl had dreamed about, but Mimi didn’t want to talk about it.

“I wish Lilithmon would hurry up and get here!” Agumon said. “WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon could finish her off no problem.”

“She’ll be tough,” Palmon said. “Last night when I was Lilimon my attacks couldn’t even reach her.”

“And she can make us lose our form,” Piyomon added.

“Yeah,” Agumon said, “but we’ll beat her.

“We have to if we want everyone to come home safely,” Gabumon said. He looked to Yamato and Sora, who stood together, talking to each other in voices too low to be made out from where the Digimon stood. When he had made his last statement, Gabumon’s expression had been one of anger, but his eyes softened as he looked at his partner. “This is hard for Yamato and the rest. If Digimon die they can be reborn, but if they lose their human friends, they can’t get them back.”

The group was silent for a moment after that, trying to wrap their heads around such a terrible concept. They thought of what it might mean to never see Takeru or Hikari again, or any of the other missing children. They thought about losing their own partners, the ones they had waited an eternity for on File Island, and their minds shrank back in horror.

Nearby, Yamato and Sora’s discussion continued.

“Last year,” Yamato was saying, “I was glad when I found out that Takeru was moving to Odaiba. I didn’t say so, but I was.”

Sora nodded without replying, waiting for Yamato to come around to the heart of what he wanted to say. Even now it was sometimes difficult for him to share his emotions outright. But she didn’t mind. It reminded her of her own tendency to internalize her insecurities. The thought had occurred to her the previous year, during the months when she had been sorting out her feelings regarding Yamato and Taichi.

“Things were good,” Yamato continued. “The band was getting popular, I was seeing Gabumon every once in a while, and my little brother was nearby without me having to worry about him all the time like in 1999.” He cleared his throat. Under more normal circumstances he would have filled in the pause with a smile, but he couldn’t smile today. “It didn’t last, of course. The Digimon Kaiser appeared around that time.”

“It always starts up so suddenly,” Sora said. “Then…and now.”

Yamato nodded. “But I wasn’t filled with worry like before. I knew Takeru could take care of himself. He was the same age I had been on our first adventure. And – and he was okay! But now this…” Sora saw his features tighten, and knew he was fighting back tears. “And they tell us that Lilithmon has them, but we don’t _know_ that.” He drew in a deep breath and let out a shuddering sigh. “Maybe you were right. About what you said last night. The closer our group is, the easier it is for the enemy to get at us.”

“No,” Sora said, and again, louder, “No, I was wrong.” Yamato looked at her, startled by the trace of irritation in her voice. “I mean, it’s sort of true,” she explained in a softer tone, “But that closeness is also where our strength comes from. I was scared, and I said something I shouldn’t have. All of us need to be there for each other just as much as we always have.”

“I guess you’re right,” he said. “That was the old Yamato talking. Sorry.” He still couldn’t manage a smile, but she could tell from his voice that he meant it when he said, “I’m glad I have you here.”

That’s when they heard Taichi’s cry of “Hey!” and turned to see what he, Mimi, and the Digimon were already looking at. The messenger had arrived.


	75. Into the Dark

_“Once a lean, black-and-white cat edged between his feet and tripped him, overturning at the same time a beaker half full of a red liquid. The shock was severe, and to this day Malone is not certain of what he saw; but in dreams he still pictures that cat as it scuttled away with certain monstrous alterations and peculiarities.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Horror at Red Hook”_

Taichi’s mind took a moment to register what he was seeing. It was Tailmon, but the color scheme was all wrong – black instead of white, with purple gloves – and that couldn’t be due entirely to the evening shadows. Suspicion followed confusion, and soon crystalized into a certainty that this creature was nothing close to Tailmon. The expression was as far from hers as the coat was. Another second of silence followed his realization, just long enough for the memory of the Greymon in the Server coliseum to flash through his head. _“See,”_ he heard Etemon say, _“You_ are _surprised!”_

That brought anger. This had to have been intentional. Something like his little sister’s Digimon. This was a taunt aimed directly at him. He took one lunging step in its direction and stopped, his fists clenched in front of him. The Digimon seemed unconcerned. Even if it had been afraid of him, there was still a distance between them, and surely it could have outrun him if it wanted to.

“Taichi!”

Agumon was beside him, and behind him Mimi and the other Digimon were approaching, Gabumon and Piyomon heading towards their partners, who were coming up from Taichi’s left.

“Are you Lilithmon’s messenger?” Agumon asked, addressing the black Tailmon.

“If you’re the Chosen Ones,” it replied. The voice was feminine, and sounded younger than Tailmon’s, but with an edge of sarcasm that hers lacked.

“Then, you’re going to lead us to her?” Mimi asked.

“That _is_ why I’m here.”

“Is it true, then?” Yamato asked, coming to a stop at a safe distance from the creature. “Our friends are there? Lilithmon’s got them?”

The messenger looked sidelong at him. They mistook her expression for mockery, but it was in fact genuine confusion.

“That’s right…” she said, “Aren’t there supposed to be more of you?

“Koshiro-kun and Jou-senpai…” Sora said, pulling out her D-Terminal. “I’ll let them know.”

“Where’s that girl and her Tailmon friend?” the black Digimon asked, ignoring her.

“You—” Taichi took another step forward, but Agumon positioned himself between his partner and the enemy.

“If you’re going to be rude, I’m leaving,” BlackTailmon said.

“No!” Yamato shouted, startling the others. “Don’t – Don’t go.”

“Doesn’t Lilithmon have Hikari-chan and the others?” Mimi asked. BlackTailmon turned her yellow eyes in Mimi’s direction.

“She could,” BlackTailmon said slowly, thinking about what her masters would want her to say in such a situation. It wouldn’t be a good idea to spoil any of their schemes with a slip of the tongue. “They don’t tell me anything. But if she does, you’d better hurry up, or there won’t be much left of them.”

She looked at the mix of anger and fear in the faces around her. She probably shouldn’t push her luck any further with people this upset.

“Well, are you coming?” she asked. “I can’t be late.”

“Koshiro said he and the others were on their way,” Sora said.

“Guess I’ll have to wait, then. You’d be doing them a favor if you went without them, though. You don’t know Lilithmon. I’ve heard she can kill you in a way that the pain won’t stop even after you’re dead.”

“Lilithmon won’t be killing anybody,” Piyomon said.

“She’s the one who’s going to be destroyed,” Gabumon said with a nod.

BlackTailmon shrugged. “Whatever. I don’t get why you guys want to take a risk like this.”

“To stop people from being hurt!” Mimi said.

“And to save the people important to us,” Yamato added, grimly.

“What does it matter?” BlackTailmon asked. “Always helping people when you don’t get anything back. I just can’t understand it.”

“Digimon like you never do,” Taichi said through gritted teeth. “You’re lucky we need you to find Lilithmon. But if we meet again, you won’t be getting away!”

“Now, being angry…” BlackTailmon said. “Wanting to kill someone. Now that’s something I can understand. I’ll remember what you’ve said, human.”

There was a long silence. Neither BlackTailmon nor the Chosen moved as they waited for the others to arrive. Taichi was breathing hard, fighting against his fear-born anger, afraid that another comment or motion might send the messenger disappearing back into the darkness she had emerged from. On her part, BlackTailmon didn’t want to provoke any of these emotional idiots into attacking her. They didn’t realize it, but she couldn’t leave them behind if she expected to avoid the already simmering fury of Lilithmon.

Finally the evening silence was broken by the buzz of insectile wings, and Kabuterimon came into view over the top of one of the buildings. He settled to the ground in the center of the plaza, allowing Koshiro, Jou, and Gomamon to disembark. BlackTailmon tensed at the arrival of the much larger Digimon, but he made no move to attack her, and she relaxed again.

“This is it, then?” she asked, as the wings stopped moving and quiet returned. She looked in Sora and Yamato’s direction, and Yamato nodded. He wanted to lash out at her, telling her that this was not all, and accusing her of knowing it, but like Taichi he was afraid of chasing her off. Besides, he was beginning to have doubts about whether he would really find Takeru and the others where Lilithmon was. It was the logical place for them to be, but BlackTailmon’s show of ignorance worried him.

“Alright, they’re here,” Taichi said. “Now where’s Lilithmon?”

“Just over here a little ways,” BlackTailmon answered, dropping to all fours and shooting off across the plaza, towards the steps that Mimi had descended the previous night in the unwelcome company of Phelesmon. The Chosen wasted no time on hesitation, running at their top speed to keep up with her. Kabuterimon took once more to the sky, determined not to lose the little black Digimon below him.

Every once in a while BlackTailmon would pause so that her pursuers didn’t fall too far behind – once at the top of the steps, again at their foot, and again across the street after dodging through the late afternoon traffic. After verifying that the Chosen Children and their partners were trying to make their way over to her, she disappeared into the shadows of the small park that lay between the Searea apartments and the beach.

Of the Chosen Children, Taichi and Yamato were in the front, running across the street with hardly a glance at the vehicles using it. There were some brakes applied as the entire group of humans and Digimon crossed, but the runners never faltered.

In the darkness under the trees they could not immediately spot her. It occurred to several of them that maybe BlackTailmon had only come to yank their chains, and had scurried out of their reach. But as their eyes adjusted to the shadows, they were able to pick out BlackTailmon’s own eyes, gleaming in the dark like a cat’s.

A tall black object stood beside her, or seemed to, but they could make out none of its details no matter how closely they looked.

“It leads right to where she’s at,” BlackTailmon said. “No sense in dragging you all over the city when we have Lilithmon’s magic.”

“What is it?” Mimi asked quietly.

“A gate of some sort?” Koshiro suggested.

“But it’s pitch black…” Jou said.

“Where does this lead?” Sora asked BlackTailmon.

“The building where Lilithmon is hiding out,” BlackTailmon said. “Don’t tell me you’re scared to go through?”

But they _were_ scared. Of course they were. They had been scared all day, riding the crest of a wave of fear that had begun gathering speed and power several days earlier. They had been presented with possibilities of what might lie through that portal, but in the end they couldn’t know. Maybe their friends were there and maybe they weren’t. Before them was the step off into the deep end, a step that the younger Chosen Children had taken that morning… and had never resurfaced.

Then the moment’s indecision passed, leaving them ashamed of it.

“We’ll go,” Taichi said softly.

Yamato nodded.

“We already knew that this was a trap,” he said, and behind him the others nodded emphatically.

“Even if the others aren’t there,” Sora said, “We still have to end this.”

“We’re right here with you,” Piyomon said.

“As long as you’ve got us,” said Gomamon, “What’s there to be afraid of?”

A rustle in the branches overhead signaled the arrival of Tentomon, who had devolved to hover by his partner’s side. The group of twelve was assembled.

Taichi put out a hand and grasped Yamato’s shoulder, squeezing hard, drawing the courage that was his defining trait from the presence of his friends. “Let’s go,” he said. The six humans and their partners walked into the black portal.

Left by herself, BlackTailmon gave an incredulous smirk and shook her head.

“Idiots.”

***

Their passage through the portal was unlike going through a Digital Gate. It was deathly cold after their run through the muggy summer evening, and with the exception of Gomamon they were all shivering when they found themselves on the other side. The place they now stood in was dark, but was not the pitch blackness of the portal itself, which now gaped behind them.

Exactly where they were couldn’t be determined. It could have been any room in any building in Tokyo, uncarpeted and unfurnished. The scant light came from a little bulb plugged into a wall socket, rendered feeble by the size of the room, which wasn’t small. The Chosen could just make out two doors as possible exits.

“I smell something, Taichi,” Agumon said, the first to break the silence. “It’s really weird. I don’t know what it is.”

“Where’s it coming from?” Taichi asked, looking from one door to the other.

Agumon made a growling grunt.

“I can’t tell. It’s too faint.”

“I don’t smell anything,” Tentomon said, “But I do feel strange.”

The Chosen Children could see that all of their Digimon seemed uneasy all of a sudden. They weren’t feeling too great themselves, but that was hardly surprising under the circumstances.

“Can’t you sense it?” Tentomon asked of no one in particular. “There’s an evil power here.”

“Should we evolve, Taichi?” Agumon asked, but it was Yamato who answered.

“Let’s wait a while,” he said. “Until Lilithmon shows herself. If you evolved now you wouldn’t be able to fit through those doors.” 

“Anyway,” Jou said, “Which door should we go through? It might be a bad idea to split up.”

The others agreed, and without much deliberation they decided to try the door on the wall to their left. The doorknob was of cold silver metal, like what one would expect to find in an office building. Taichi turned it and flung the door open. Agumon and Gabumon rushed into the room, but stopped suddenly as they saw what it contained, and heard the sounds of horror the humans made behind them.

It was clear now, at least, what Agumon had been smelling. Some of the blood had flecked the walls and ceiling, but most of it had seeped off the metal table onto the floor, where it had pooled in half-congealed puddles. Worse was the corpse itself, which had been gashed in dozens of places, and parts of which had been charred as if by an electrical current.

The same thought had come to all of those present, but it didn’t take more than a second sickening glance to tell them that they didn’t know the person whose body lay before them. It was the body of a full-grown man. What made it so easy to tell was the lighting. The corners of the room were in deep shadow, but track lighting hung from the ceiling, with every bulb shining directly upon the corpse.

While most of the Chosen Children stood frozen with shock, and Mimi covered her eyes and began whimpering, Sora turned away, ready to retch. Incongruously and horribly, a thought of the silly “haunted houses” set up every once in a while at the school popped into her head. Was that what they had walked into? A haunted house attraction that Lilithmon had designed especially for them, where every horror was real? Could they even open another door after that?

Taichi shut the door again, once everyone had retreated into the first room. His legs felt weak, but he didn’t want to even lean against it. He looked down at the floor, suddenly nauseous, but looked up when Koshiro managed to gather enough moisture in his mouth to speak.

“It’s gone.”

At first they didn’t understand him. He was looking at one of the empty corners of the room.

“The portal is gone,” he said. “We’re stuck here.”


	76. The Trap Springs

_“There is one woman who in fell loveliness excels all the rest. Her poisonous charms are like a honeyed flower growing on the brink of hell.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Diary of Alonzo Typer”_

Hiraga Ayaki was back on sitting duty, but he was restless, and took periodical walks about the computer room. Tonight was as quiet as ever, but that didn’t stop his eyes from roving about, verifying that he had a feel for where everything was, preparing him for any kind of disturbance. He knew that the twelve children and their Digimon were expected by Lilithmon tonight, and he did not know when or where they would make their entrance. Probably he should have discussed Lilithmon’s plan with her in more detail, but he didn’t care to deal with Digimon any more than he had to. He had fulfilled his responsibilities by passing on Sato’s instructions to her. In lieu of knowing the plan in its entirety, he had taken greater pains than usual in readying the handgun that he always kept on his person, but he knew that his best defense lay in Lilithmon acting intelligently.

When one of the doors along the wall opened, his gaze darted in its direction. He didn’t reach for his gun – it was probably nothing – but he was aware of the way it hung in its shoulder holster, and knew that he could have it ready to fire at a moment’s notice. In the newly opened door stood Lilithmon. She was smiling, but it was a manic expression, and Hiraga could guess why.

“They’re here!” she said.

“The children?” Hiraga asked. “Where are they?”

“In the subbasement,” Lilithmon answered. She was all but glowing with excitement. “I felt them come. And now I think it’s time I went and welcomed them. You just stay up here.”

“Don’t let them into the inhabited parts of the building,” Hiraga reminded her.

“Oh,” Lilithmon giggled, “I know, Hiraga-chan.” Then the girlishness left her, and it was the sensuous voice of a woman that said, “They won’t be going anywhere.”

She shut the door and was gone. Hiraga didn’t immediately return his gaze to a computer screen. He had a sense that something was different, but it took him a second to realize what had changed. The thin line of light under the door had become a line of pitch blackness.

***

The partner Digimon had not been as affected by the sight of a human corpse as their partners were, but it was the first they had really seen, and it had still been a shocking experience, especially coupled with the reaction of their human friends. They offered what comfort they could, but didn’t know exactly what to say. For a long minute there was no talk of what to do next. Instead there were hasty reassurances from the Digimon, while the Chosen Children grappled with the fact that their only chance to get out of this terrible place was to press onward.

It was Jou who finally faced the problem at hand. “What now?” he asked.

“Should we try the other door?” Gomamon suggested.

“I don’t want to,” Mimi said. “What if it’s like the last room?”

“We have to go somewhere,” Sora reminded her in a voice that was compassionate, but firm. “I don’t want to see anything like that again, but we can’t stay here.”

“That’s right,” Yamato said. “We still have to find Takeru and everyone else.”

“Yeah,” Taichi said. He was recovering from his initial shock, and his courage began to reassert itself as he thought of his sister and friends. The memories of too many bad dreams were swirling through his head for him to remain idle, and his horror at what he had seen had returned to a fear of what could be.

“Alright,” Koshiro said. “We’ll press on.”

There may have been a second exit from the room where the murdered man lay, but no one suggested reentering it. The group turned their attention to the other door of the room they were in, which they hadn’t yet opened.

“We’ll go first if you want, Sora,” Piyomon said. She and the other Digimon gathered about the door, and Gabumon reached up to turn the silver doorknob. The Chosen Children stood back, waiting.

“It’s just a hallway,” Tentomon said, as he and Agumon peered through the crack between the door and the wall.

Gabumon pulled the door farther open, and the humans could see that it was indeed a hallway, as nondescript as the other two rooms in terms of decoration. There was one odd thing about it, however. The whole hall was dimly lit, as they had come to expect of every part of this building, but at the far end there was what appeared to be a wall of perfect blackness. But they knew that it wasn’t a wall. It was another strange dark space like the one they had come through to get here.

They all started cautiously forward. No one really wanted to be in the front of the group, or be the one to bring up the rear, but there was no cowardly argument over position. Most of the Digimon were in the lead, but there was many a backward glance as the group moved into the hallway. In the dim glow of the wall sconces, they were able to make out more details of the hall as they advanced. About halfway between the blackness and the door they had come through there was an intersection, with another hallway opening to the left. And just before the black region, also on the left, was a closed pair of double doors.

“There’s more doors this way,” Agumon said, peeking around the corner. The twelve humans and Digimon hesitated at the intersection, trying to decide which way they should go.

“If we enter that blackness,” Koshiro said, “There’s no telling where we might end up. I suggest that we explore this area before moving on.”

“Right!” Taichi said. “They might be here.” He looked down the other long hall, but none of the three doors that he could see looked more promising than any other. He cupped his hands about his mouth and yelled down the silent corridor. “Hikari!”

Jou was opening his mouth to tell Taichi to be more quiet, when the double doors clicked and swung open. They all turned in that direction – hoping to see a friendly face appear, fearing that the enemy had answered Taichi’s call instead.

The doors remained open, but the opener didn’t emerge, maybe staying hidden behind the doors, which had opened out into the hallway. The Chosen didn’t dare to move forward. They stood where they were, prepared for anything.

“Hikari?” Taichi asked quietly.

“‘Light?’” said a voice from behind the doors. “That’s the last thing you’ll find here.” And with that, Lilithmon stepped out into the center of the hallway. Her gaze swept back and forth, taking them all in.

“After all, I am the Goddess of Darkness,” she said. “Now… Who will be the first to worship?”

“Now is it time to evolve?” Agumon asked, talking to the humans at his back.

“Yeah,” Taichi said. “Now we fight.”

“Oh?” Lilithmon said, “But some of you seem to be missing.” There was no outward change in her tone, but within her she felt the first twinge of a new anger. Had BlackTailmon really managed to ensnare only half of her enemies?

“That’s enough!” Taichi said. “Agumon!”

“Not your turn yet!” Lilithmon said. She thrust forward the golden claws of her right hand, and her shadow on the floor leaped ahead of her and vanished. Then Yamato gasped as a hole suddenly gaped beneath his feet, and he fell into blackness. There was no longer any floor under Piyomon either, but her wings managed to keep her from plummeting with him. Koshiro stepped backwards, away from the edge of the circular pit.

“Yamato!”

Gabumon and Sora called out as one and rushed to stare down into the darkness, but there was no sign of him.

“Here we play by my rules,” Lilithmon said, smiling. “ _Now_ you have my permission to make a move.”

“Then how’s this?” Taichi snarled as his Digivice began to glow.

**“Agumon, Warp Evolve! … WarGreymon!”**

As WarGreymon advanced on her, Lilithmon laughed and spun back into the shelter of the open doors. WarGreymon’s Dramon Killer plunged into the faux wood of the nearest door and tore it completely off its hinges, but Lilithmon was no longer behind it. Instead, those of the Chosen who weren’t staring at the place where Yamato had disappeared saw only blackness beyond the threshold.

But WarGreymon could still see Lilithmon, the only spot of color in the abyss beyond the doorframe. She beckoned to him with one long-nailed finger. Taichi rushed to his partner’s side.

“Let’s get her,” he said to WarGreymon. Looking quickly over his shoulder he yelled back to his friends. “We’ll handle Lilithmon! Find Yamato and the others!”

WarGreymon leapt into the darkness, and Taichi followed without hesitation. There was nothing beneath his feet, but he found that he could run anyway, as in the space where they had encountered Apocalymon.

**“Gaia Force!”**

WarGreymon held a bright ball of energy above his head, but there was nothing to illuminate, and the blackness remained unchanged. He hurled it in Lilithmon’s direction. She shot upwards, if up had any meaning here, and the great orb passed under her. Flipping over, twisting around in midair, she reached the peak of her jump, fell a little, and returned to a standing position, though now upside-down from her opponents’ perspective.

Angry as he was, worried as he was about his friends, Taichi still couldn’t help but notice the beauty and grace of the Digimon before him. It occurred to him that her sensuality was another of her weapons. It could distract, attract, or fool someone into mistaking her for harmless.

“Like what you see?” she asked, as if reading his thoughts. “I’m a little disappointed, myself. I was so hoping to get to know the others. It’s times like these I wish I could be two places at once.” She raised a hand to her mouth to stifle a playful giggle. “Well, there is one thing I could do…”

She began to sweep the thorny claws of her right hand in a slow arc.

“Don’t say you’re going to handle me,” she said, “until we see that you can handle this. **Empress Emblaze**!”

As the words left her mouth there was a change in the quality of the darkness. The cold black space quivered. Taichi and WarGreymon saw something shuddering into existence, appearing behind Lilithmon and surging forward above her as a wave of confused matter. The shape it finally assumed was a portrait of lunacy. Five beaked, golden heads plunged towards the Chosen, growing from a cancerous mass in which two wet, red mouths opened. The whole gigantic thing was alive with eyes of all shapes and sizes, and it shrieked as it bore down on them, more hideous than any Digimon.

WarGreymon wasn’t given much time to react. As the thing loomed over him, a gigantic parody of Lilithmon’s hand, the five champing heads drawing together to seize him and rend him to pieces, he knew that he could not grapple with such a monstrosity. Instead of counterattacking, he darted to one side, catching Taichi with an outflung arm and propelling both of them out of the abomination’s way.

Taichi and his partner looked back from where they came to a stop. The thing was still there. Having closed on empty air, it turned slowly in their direction, seeming to regard them with the multitudes of eyes on each head, and the single great eye in its palm, in which floated half a dozen irises and pupils. The huge mass wavered towards them, swaying from side to side in jerky movements, like the horrible blind groping of a disembodied hand. Maybe it couldn’t see them after all. The eyes rolled aimlessly in their myriad sockets.

WarGreymon wrenched his gaze away from it to look for Lilithmon, but she was nowhere to be seen.

“She’s after the others!” Taichi yelled, struggling to be heard over the ceaseless moaning of the hand monster.

“Don’t worry, Taichi,” his partner said. “When I’ve killed this, we’ll go after her!”


	77. Gray, Black, and Gold

_“In spite of himself the watcher was struck with admiration for her lithe beauty. Yet at the same time a shudder of repulsion shook him, for her eyes gleamed with vibrant and magnetic evil, older than the world.” – Robert E. Howard, “The Moon of Skulls”_

Yamato’s feet hit solid ground, jarring him. The freezing blackness had disappeared. Looking around him, he saw that he was in what must have been a restroom. No one else was present, and he wondered whether or not he was in the same building he had been in before its floor had swallowed him. Everything was silent.

He made his cautious way towards the exit. There were four stalls to be passed, and as he came to each one he pushed the door back, trying not to make any sound. It didn’t make sense for Lilithmon to have simply relocated him. There was something here that could hurt him, and he wasn’t about to let it take him off guard.

Having opened every stall and found all of them unoccupied, he started towards the door. Just as his hand reached it, however, he caught a glimpse of sudden movement out of the corner of his eye. Whipping his head around, he could see nothing amiss. The only things in that direction were the two sinks, set into a counter, and the long mirror above them. There was his reflection, staring back at him with suspicion. Probably it was his own movement that he had seen; he was jumping at shadows.

He returned his attention to the door and applied pressure to it, finding it heavy, but moveable. It began to open, but before he could see into the room or hallway beyond, there was another flash of movement in the direction of the mirror. Something told him that this time was different, and he wheeled to face whatever was happening.

Not his reflection this time – his reflection was gone, and the mirror was pitch black. There came a sound, the crash of phantom glass, and from the midst of the mirror’s darkness emerged Lilithmon. Yamato didn’t have time to react. Her left hand fastened on his neck, the long fingernails digging into his skin. She jerked him downwards and towards her, causing his stomach to collide with the edge of the counter and knocking the breath out of him. Gasping for air, he went down on both knees. He brought both of his hands up to pry hers loose, but she was ten times stronger than her physique suggested, and she kept her grip.

Lilithmon made herself comfortable atop the counter, reclining on her stomach so that she could look him in the face as she held him.

“Looks like you got the girl again,” she said, smiling. Yamato’s legs were working, trying to get his feet back under him, but Lilithmon tightened her stranglehold, and he got the message. He stopped trying to stand and remained on his knees, facing her with an expression he hoped had more of defiance in it than fear. He could feel a warm drop of blood on his neck where one of her nails had cut him. He gathered enough breath to speak.

“What do you want?” he asked.

“I can think of several things,” she said, “But mostly I want to know why only half of you are here. Where are the other six?”

Again Yamato noticed the show of ignorance. BlackTailmon had claimed not to know where Takeru and the others were, and now Lilithmon was doing the same. If Lilithmon really did have the younger Chosen Children, as Taichi had been told, why would she pretend otherwise? Not only was this a trap – it was starting to look as if it hadn’t even been baited to begin with.

“They’re not here,” he said. It was the most noncommittal thing he could think to say. It was at once a play for more time, and a tactic for getting Lilithmon to tell what she knew.

“I _know_ that,” Lilithmon said, her violet-painted eyelids lowered in boredom. “Come on. If I can’t get a straight answer from you, I’ll go find your little girlfriend and ask her.”

“No! I don’t know where they are. They disappeared – in the Digital World. We got a message saying that you had them.”

Lilithmon’s grasp on his throat slackened as she digested this new information. Yamato didn’t make a move to get away yet. A chance of escaping might come eventually, but he had to wait for the right moment. Where was Gabumon? The others must be searching for him by now, but how long would it take them to find him?

“So…” Lilithmon said, sounding disappointed, “It looks like I won’t have a chance to play with them tonight after all.” Her lecherous smile returned. “But they’ll keep for a while, won’t they? I’ll just have to enjoy the ones I do have. Then again, suppose you’re lying. Are you sure your girl wouldn’t have anything else to tell me?”

“She doesn’t know anything I don’t,” Yamato said. “You don’t need to go after her. You’ve already got me.”

Lilithmon chuckled a little at that. “My, how chivalrous you are,” she said. Her eyes lit up as she thought of something. “Do you _love_ each other, then?”

Yamato was silent a moment. “I…I guess we do.”

“No you don’t,” Lilithmon said, with a roll of her eyes. “Love doesn’t really exist, you know. It’s just a tidier word for lust. Who could blame you for ‘loving,’ a couple of sexy kids like yourselves?”

“You’re wrong,” was all Yamato said, too uncomfortable for anything else.

“I dare you to convince me,” Lilithmon replied. “Not many Digimon ever trouble themselves with questions of love, or lust, but I am different. I know how things work. What could possibly attract you to her besides her body?”

“She’s… my friend,” Yamato said, fumbling for a better way to express himself and not finding it.

“‘Friend,’ ‘love…’ How many empty words will you waste on me?”

“They’re not empty!” Yamato said, and Lilithmon was surprised by his vehemence. She did not know that he had had a similar conversation before. Jyureimon had gotten the better of him, but he wouldn’t fall for the same ploy again.

If she hadn’t known it already, Lilithmon could see that the Chosen Children would not fall to words alone, but words were the least of the tools she possessed. Like Yamato, she had no intention of backing down from one of the tenets of her being.

“Alright,” she said soothingly. “Suppose that they aren’t empty words. But how strong can they really be? I think that at least a little part of you would like to test them and find out.” She lowered her voice as she continued speaking. Her hand no longer choked him, instead cupping the back of his neck and drawing their faces closer together. “How about it? Now’s the perfect time, when I can do anything I want to you.”

Yamato squeezed his eyes shut and kept his body rigid. Whatever Lilithmon had in mind, he was determined to take no part in it.

“Why won’t you look at me?” Lilithmon asked, pouting. Yamato couldn’t see it, of course, but she had begun to radiate a kind of grayish half-light. “Look at me,” she whispered.

Something in the command forced his eyes open, and he gazed at her in a mixture of embarrassment and horror.

“Look at me,” she repeated. “Am I not beautiful? Am I not flawless?”

Unable to close his eyes again, Yamato took in the creature before him, and it seemed that she was right. As she was situated, little of her upper body was left to the imagination, and the expanse of voluptuous pink flesh, shining in the fluorescent lighting, was too smooth and uniform to be human. Then there was her face, young but mature, with an expression of calculated innocence. Yes, she was beautiful. Terribly beautiful.

“No need to say a word,” she whispered. “I can see it in your eyes.” What she could really see in his eyes was her reflection. Her gray luminescence was fastened on him now, draped about his body and mind like a pall. “Now,” she breathed, pulling him still nearer, “Now we’ll talk about love… and lust.”

***

Gabumon’s first impulse, after recovering from the shock of Yamato’s sudden fall, had been to fling himself into the blackness after his partner, but in another instant it was gone, leaving only the tile floor of the hallway. Speechless, Gabumon turned to face the others. They didn’t look like they’d be of any help. Palmon was worrying over Mimi, who had sunk to her knees in the middle of the hallway. Jou looked no less nervous, glancing from one of his friends to the other and towards the door where Taichi and WarGreymon had disappeared. Koshiro was either in shock or thinking hard, looking for a possible solution. Gomamon met Gabumon’s gaze and opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again.

“Yamato? Yamato!” Sora was yelling, still staring at the floor as if by the force of her gaze she could reopen the aperture that had swallowed him.

“S-Sora-san,” Koshiro said. “We may be able to find Yamato-san. The enemy will try to take us alive if possible. He may still be in this building!”

“Won’t we try it, Sora?” Piyomon asked. The feathery Digimon looked miserable, maybe feeling an absurd kind of guilt for not allowing herself to fall with her partner’s boyfriend.

“Should some of us help Taichi?” Jou asked.

“Lilithmon is an Ultimate-level Digimon,” Tentomon said. “Taichi-han and WarGreymon are the only ones who can deal with her right now.”

“Alright,” Gabumon said, “Let’s go.”

He started down the branch in the hallway, calling Yamato’s name once as he headed for the nearest door. While the others were still behind him he opened it, but Yamato wasn’t there. Instead there was another of Lilithmon’s grisly exhibits. This body was suspended from the ceiling by chains of the kind that Gabumon had recently come to associate with LadyDevimon. There was no other exit to the room, and he closed the door on it before any of the Chosen Children had a glimpse of what was inside.

“Yamato’s…not there,” Gabumon told his friends. He didn’t have to say what he had found; he could see they had some idea already.

“Come on, then,” Sora said. “The next door.”

***

**“Gaia Force!”**

The great ball of energy collided with one of the horned heads of the monstrosity Lilithmon had conjured, exploding on impact. Golden scales were blasted in all directions, and the creature flailed in the void, its beaks snapping at nothing. But there was no change in the quality of its screaming, and as the smoke cleared it barreled forward, certain of its prey’s location.

Again WarGreymon’s primary concern was for his partner. He had just enough time to move Taichi out of the way, and the escape was much narrower than their last had been. Taichi’s ribs were aching where his partner’s Chrome Digizoid-clad wrists had caught him, but it was much better than being crushed and torn to death, and his own primary concern was destroying this monster and saving his friends. Watching it grope in the darkness, he waited until he could gather enough breath to speak.

“Draw it away, WarGreymon,” he said softly, in case the thing was not as deaf as it was blind, “So you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Got it, Taichi. Stay here.”

WarGreymon shot forward, into the twitching mass of heads, stabbing and slicing with his Dramon Killers whenever an opening presented itself, dodging between the beaks whenever they tried to clamp down on him. For another minute the deadly game went on. Then WarGreymon emerged into empty space on the other side and looked back. There had been little apparent damage done, but the giant hand turned in his direction, away from Taichi. The five heads drew apart from each other, the five neck-like fingers spread wide. The huge creature lunged towards its enemy again, determined to scoop him up in its grasp and annihilate him. But now WarGreymon was ready for it.

**“Brave Tornado!”**

WarGreymon became a vortex of orange, rushing to meet his opponent, towards the great central eye that it had left unguarded. The Dramon Killers found it and drilled into it, and instead of gore there splattered blobs of darkness that were seen against the flesh of the hand before disappearing in the uniform blackness of the void. The abomination had been screaming since its inception, but now its pitch rose higher and higher, until Taichi thought that his eardrums would burst.

The flesh of the enormous thing bulged and rippled. It was screaming – screaming – screaming – and coming apart.


	78. Souls under Siege

_“For him the scarlet ghost_   
_Of Lilith from time’s last necropolis_   
_Rears amorous and malign.”_   
_\- Clark Ashton Smith, “Zothique”_

Sora was the one to open the next door, which was farther down the hall on the same side as the last one. This room was larger, but just as bare of furniture. At first Sora didn’t see anything untoward, mostly because her gaze was drawn to the two doors on the far wall. The group entered the room, only then noticing what hung on the wall to their right – a body, held a few inches above the floor by kunai-like objects embedded in its extremities. No one examined it closely enough to tell if it was a man or woman. It was hard to tell, because every part of it was riddled with what might have been bullet holes. A few other holes had been punched into the wall around the body. Evidently it had been used for target practice.

The Chosen Children turned away, again sickened to their cores, but not this time surprised. That was when they saw the wall opposite. It was partly covered in blown-up photographs, and the subject of every one was the Chosen Children themselves. All twelve of them were there, multiple shots of each, all outside, and in a few Sora, Koshiro, Mimi, and Jou could recognize exactly when and where they were taken. In the center of the wall was a cluster of photos showing zoomed-in shots of the twelve Chosen Children’s faces.

“These…” Koshiro said. “These could only have been taken by a human. None of the Digimon we’ve seen could have appeared in public without us noticing.”

What he had suspected was true then. There really were humans aiding the enemy Digimon. But why?

“Come on,” Gabumon said, breaking in on Koshiro’s thoughts before he could become lost in them. “We have to find Yamato! WarGreymon may not be able to stop Lilithmon on his own.”

“He’s right,” Sora said. “We can worry about who else we’re up against later.” She glanced again at the two unopened doors. Now she could see that they were labeled as men’s and women’s restrooms. She started towards the nearer door, the one to the women’s restrooms, when a sound from behind the door froze her in her tracks.

Someone was screaming in pain or rage, suddenly and loudly enough to stop the hearts of those who heard it. Then, just as suddenly, it died, and as the Chosen Children stood paralyzed and their Digimon rushed forward, there was a scuffling sound, and the door began to open.

***

Lilithmon had been whispering into Yamato’s ear. He wouldn’t be able to determine later how long she spoke to him before her unexpected shriek snapped him out of his trance. Nor could he remember exactly what she had said, though what little he could recall later made his face hot and his heart cold. Returning to full consciousness in an instant, he fell backwards to the tile floor as Lilithmon’s left hand ceased to support him.

From the floor he could see that it was now grasping her right wrist just below where the golden plating of her claws began. Her golden right hand was held open in front of her, and with her poise shattered she was gaping at it as her scream began to fade. Smoke rose from its fingers. Yamato saw this in a moment before he scrambled to his feet and fell on the door out of the restroom.

It swung open, and he stumbled between several of the partner Digimon and into Sora. He clutched at her for support, and despite her surprise she managed to catch him and keep him from falling.

“Yamato!” Gabumon shouted joyously, rushing forward to throw his own arms around the couple.

Yamato managed to steady himself and looked into Sora’s eyes.

“I’m glad to see you,” he said, smiling. He saw her squeeze her eyes shut and reopen them, and he copied the gesture to keep his own eyes from watering.

The other Chosen Children walked up to greet him, but their attention was redirected to the restroom door when it was blown open with enough force to flatten it against the wall, snapping the metal hinges. Inside was darkness, and standing in that darkness was Lilithmon, chest and shoulders heaving in her fury.

“Flighty little brat!” she hissed. “Couldn’t have waited a few more minutes? You could have been my slave and enjoyed every moment of it!”

Yamato turned angrily towards her, away from Sora’s inquisitive expression.

“You won’t be winning that way,” he said. “Let’s go, Gabumon!”

Gabumon shouted his assent, and the light of evolution glowed. At the same moment Lilithmon clenched her hands into fists, and the blackness beyond the doorway surged forward, blanketing the room in cold darkness. When the light faded, MetalGarurumon stood where Gabumon had been, and there was only the dark, stretching away on all sides into infinity. The Chosen Children and their partners remained in its midst. Lilithmon had vanished with the room’s transformation, but they could sense that she had not left them.

***

After Lilithmon’s monster finished its disintegration, Taichi and WarGreymon were left looking for a way back to the rest of their friends. In the chaos of the battle they had lost their sense of orientation, and no matter where they turned they could not find the doorway through which they had entered the void from the world of light. The darkness was all around them, its exits sealed.

“We have to get out of here,” Taichi said, turning his gaze in every direction and seeing only blackness. “If she gets to the others before MetalGarurumon is ready to fight…” It was a sentence he didn’t have to finish.

“Should we go looking for a way out?” WarGreymon asked.

Taichi was hesitant to reply. Moving from where they were might take them farther from the place they had entered…but did distance matter here? For all he knew, the normal laws of space didn’t apply in this place. The place’s very existence defied them.

His frustration was growing. First there had been the disappearance of his sister and her friends…now everyone else was in danger as well…and he couldn’t do anything but stand here in the dark! He didn’t lack courage. The short battle just ended had only built up his resolve. But in this situation courage meant nothing. He was powerless to help those he loved, and that was a knowledge more terrible than any fear.

“Damn it!” He wanted to hit something, but there was nothing to hit but cold black air. Instead he turned to his partner. “We can’t wait around anymore. I…I—!”

WarGreymon nodded. “We’ll save them together, Taichi.”

With his partner securely perched on his shoulders, WarGreymon took flight, cutting through the icy nothingness at high speed. Taichi had to squint against the air that rushed into his face, but kept his eyes open. The blackness was so perfect that everything else was immediately visible. Taichi hadn’t really thought about it in the heat of battle, but he could see himself and his partner without difficulty. For a minute or so they were the only spot of color in the abyss, but then suddenly ahead of them there was another – a lozenge-shaped opening onto a lighted place.

WarGreymon made for it, slackening his speed as it grew larger in their vision. They had found a way out – through the aperture they could see a room closely resembling those which they had already seen since stepping through the portal near the Searea apartments. In another moment they were through the rift. The room’s dim lights seemed incredibly bright, and its cool air seemed incredibly warm.

Taichi dropped to the floor and looked about. There wasn’t much to see. The room’s only furnishing was a table, the same kind the Chosen Children had found upon opening that first door. There was no body on this one; instead there was an object like an oversized snow globe. Taichi intended to only glance at it – he had much more important things to worry about – but there was something so strange about the thing that his gaze lingered on it in spite of himself.

It wasn’t water in there. It didn’t look like a liquid at all. More like a gas – insubstantial, and in constant fluid motion. Its color was purple, though there were hints of other colors mixed in as well. The swirling mist played tricks on Taichi’s vision. One instant he would think that he saw the suggestion of shape in the shapelessness – a human face, perhaps, but the next instant the illusion would pass.

“Taichi,” WarGreymon said, recalling him to where he was.

“Yeah…” he answered. He looked to one of the doors out of the room. “Let’s get going.”

Taichi opened the door and WarGreymon led the way through it, his partner following without a backwards glance. Behind them, the mistiness in the globe swirled and flowed, swirled and flowed.

***

The Chosen had instinctively backed themselves into a circle, facing outward, with the Digimon in front. They didn’t know which direction Lilithmon would attack from, or if she would approach from above or below them.

“Hey, Mimi,” Palmon asked quietly, “Should we evolve too?”

“We might as well,” Gomamon said. “Even if we can’t beat her by ourselves, we’ll be more helpful than we are now.”

“Yes,” Koshiro said, “It would probably be best if—”

He was interrupted by a laugh. There was no telling what direction it came from. Lilithmon could have been circling round them, or very near, or very distant. All they knew was that she was here. She had a presence that could be felt, a palpable power that got under the skin.

“More helpful?” she said, and to each of them it seemed that she was right beside them. “You really have no idea who I am, do you? You think I’m joking when I call myself Goddess. But I mean what I say, and do what I plan to do. I am limitless. I can turn you to puppets, reduce you to madness, or condemn you to Hell. There is no help left for you, Chosen Ones.”

“Then why are you hiding?” Yamato asked. “Show yourself and fight us.”

“Obviously I’m not appreciated,” she answered, the girlish pout breaking in on her cold, ageless tone. “Why should I waste myself on fools who talk about Love and Purity?”

“You’ve underestimated us too,” Sora said. “Yamato didn’t fall for your tricks. I’m going to go ahead and guess that that doesn’t happen to you very often.”

“I really don’t get what you see in this girl, Yamato-chan. She’s as insipid as her Crest.” A laugh rippled in the darkness. “But it doesn’t matter now. Go ahead, little things. Spout all the nonsense you want and evolve as far as you can. You’ll never approach my power.”

They didn’t need to be told twice. The Crests of Love, Knowledge, Purity, and Sincerity glowed. It was still dark and still cold, but with MetalGarurumon ready, with Garudamon and AtlurKabuterimon and Zudomon towering above them, with Lilimon at Mimi’s side, the Chosen Children had found a sense of confidence that they had been lacking ever since passing from the familiar sights of Odaiba into this underground horror show.

“Well, we’re ready,” Jou said. “Where is she?”

From behind him he heard, “Right here of course.”

Suddenly Lilithmon was in their midst, crackling with an energy that sent every Digimon but MetalGarurumon flying away from her. Then she was shrouded in gray not-light, and so were the five Chosen Children, immobilized, suffocated by her presence.


	79. The Demoness

_“It was murder – strangulation – but one need not say that the claw-mark on [her] throat could not have come from her husband’s or any other human hand, or that upon the white wall there flickered for an instant in hateful red a legend which, later copied from memory, seems to have been nothing less than the fearsome Chaldee letters of the word ‘LILITH.’” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Horror at Red Hook”_

MetalGarurumon could only watch in horror as Lilithmon raised an arm, and the five humans ascended with it. They were trapped in a cloud of grayness that was emanating from the demoness, a blotch on the background of black as if the darkness had some awful leprous disease.

**“Darkness Love!”**

A wave of the grayness swept outward from Lilithmon’s body, playing about the surface of MetalGarurumon’s. He remembered that she had used the same attack last night to degenerate Gabumon into Tsunomon. But this time, at the Ultimate level, and not worn out from a night of battle, he was ready to fight it. He could feel his power beginning to ebb away, but he held on to it tightly. He clenched his jaws as if to clamp down on the energy his enemy was trying to drain.

“Well, are you just going to stand there?” Lilithmon mocked. She glanced up to where the Chosen Children were suspended above her head, writhing in the grayness. “It’s not nice to keep these cuties waiting.”

Aloft, the humans had been pulled horizontal by the gray mistiness, so that when they opened their eyes they were now staring upwards into blackness. They could feel Lilithmon’s energies running through their minds and bodies, unpleasantly pleasant.

Yamato choked out, “Metal…Garurumon!”

The other four partner Digimon had recovered from Lilithmon’s initial attack, and had approached her again, but they hesitated to take action. They didn’t quite trust their accuracy. With their partners so close to Lilithmon, a Shadow Wing or Horn Buster might easily damage everyone.

In the meantime, MetalGarurumon was still trying to maintain his current form, but Lilithmon’s taunt and Yamato’s plea galvanized him into action. Unlike the other Digimon, he had precision weapons at his command. Four beams of blue light issued from the laser sights on his snout, hitting Lilithmon in the stomach. Letting out a grunt, she recoiled. The five teens went limp as the grayness about them faded without entirely disappearing.

“So you do have some tricks up your sleeve,” Lilithmon said, leaning forward again and smiling. “But it looks like it’s my turn again. **Phantom Pain!** ”

MetalGarurumon’s vision of Lilithmon was partially obscured by a black pattern of interlocking squares and circles. It was the same perfect blackness as the void they hung in, and so when the bolts of black energy leapt from it he had no means of seeing them and dodging. His sensors caught them, but the range was too close. The blasts hit him from a number of directions, and again it was all he could do to remain at the Ultimate level.

Growling in pain, he tried to refocus his attention on Lilithmon. He could see that she was still smiling. It wasn’t a manic, angry smile now, but a self-satisfied one. Her opponent was still standing, but she looked as smug as if the battle were already won. MetalGarurumon didn’t know what she was thinking, but he had noticed that something was wrong. The initial pain of the attack had not lessened afterwards. If anything, it seemed to be slowly spreading from the points of impact to nearby parts of his body.

“What’s the matter?” Lilithmon asked. “Are you not feeling good? Poor thing. It only gets worse from here.”

**“Flower Cannon!”**

Lilithmon’s expression faltered as Lilimon’s attack hit her from behind. She looked back over her shoulder to see Mimi’s partner, whose weapon could still be seen peeking out from the petals at her wrists.

“Don’t forget about us!” Lilimon said.

_“You?”_ Lilithmon said, looked around incredulously at her opponents. Garudamon, AtlurKabuterimon, and Zudomon shifted their positions as if preparing to attack, but they still couldn’t risk their partners by making a move. “Perfect-level Digimon? Don’t make me laugh.”

“Lilithmon,” MetalGarurumon said, trying to recapture her attention, “We’re not done with our fight yet.”

“We may as well be,” she said, glancing at him. “My magic is already eating away at your data. Before long you’ll have been completely consumed.” She indulged herself in a bubbly laugh. “But the best part is, the pain doesn’t stop even then!”

Yamato’s partner knew that she was telling the truth. He could feel the poison – or whatever it was – of Lilithmon’s attack burrowing deeper into his muscles. He didn’t have time to examine himself, but he had a feeling that he was already beginning the process of a slow disintegration. Would he die? He couldn’t afford to now, not yet, not when Yamato and the others needed him. He drew on what strength he could muster. A Cocytus Breath at this point might kill him, but if he could lunge forward and hit Lilithmon with it at point-blank range, it should be able to do serious damage. He prepared to launch himself at his enemy, but before he was ready the situation changed.

Lilithmon’s gray radiance was strengthening itself again, and the Chosen Children were feeling it, sliding over them like an oily second skin. Essentially weightless, they were unable to escape from it. Upon hearing her partner’s voice, Mimi began moving her limbs in an attempt to get a purchase on the slippery air, but all it amounted to was ineffectual flailing. Then, as Lilithmon finished talking to MetalGarurumon, the air suddenly seemed to get a tighter grip on _her_ , and she was pulled downwards, her body being reoriented.

The other children couldn’t see her descent, but they sensed it. With their eyes stuck aimed at darkness, they listened for any sound that might tell them what Lilithmon was about to do with their friend. And it was as they were listening that there was change in the blackness before them, at first almost imperceptible. In the distance a crack of light appeared and widened into a rectangle. And something came through it.

Lilithmon smiled knowingly at MetalGarurumon as she drew Mimi to her. Cocytus Breath was no longer an option. He racked his mind for a new strategy, but all his thoughts were clouded by the ever-deepening pain.

Lilithmon refocused her attention on Lilimon, as with her left arm she pulled Mimi to her side. Lilimon tensed and brought the Flower Cannon up again.

“Let go of Mimi!”

“In a minute,” Lilithmon purred. “Maybe.”

Mimi couldn’t move anymore, the gray luminescence wouldn’t allow her to, but she still shuddered as Lilithmon lightly drew her long, pointed fingernails across the girl’s exposed stomach. Then Lilithmon reached up and grabbed a fistful of Mimi’s hair, pointing her captive’s frightened gaze in Lilimon’s direction.

“Watch very closely now,” Lilithmon said, raising her right hand. “Your little Digimon gets to be first to die.”

“Lilimon, run!” Mimi screamed, managing to break the spell’s hold on her voice in the panic of the moment.

**“Phantom Pain!”**

Mimi saw a black pattern trace itself in the air, with her partner at its center. Lilimon hesitated, as if trying to decide how to dodge what was coming, and not coming up with an answer. The unseen bolts lanced towards her. But in the next instant they could be seen – no longer black on black but black on gold, slamming into WarGreymon’s Brave Shield and rebounding harmlessly into the abyss. He had appeared so quickly that it took a moment for Mimi and the Digimon to grasp what had happened, and that moment was enough time for him to separate the shield into its constituent halves and whip one of them at Lilithmon’s head, clearing Mimi by a few inches and knocking the demon lord away from her.

In spite of his pain, MetalGarurumon was first to recover. He jerked his body around to face Lilithmon’s new position.

**“Grace Cross Freezer!”**

The gun ports and launchers concealed within him flipped open, unleashing a volley of missiles at the stunned Lilithmon. Leaving trails of ice-blue light behind them, they converged on their target, and she vanished for an instant in the white glare of the impact.

The Chosen Children were free once more from the smothering influence of Lilithmon’s aura. As they found their equilibrium, Taichi fell slowly towards them from the door he had opened into the abyss.

“Is everyone alright, guys?” he called.

“Great timing, Taichi!” Sora called back.

“I…I think I’m okay,” Mimi said, as Lilimon rejoined her.

“And Yamato’s here too,” Taichi noted, descending to where his friends waited. “Now we can finish this.”

The six of them turned to look at Lilithmon as their partner Digimon gathered protectively around them. The demoness hung in the air, most of her body encased in jagged ice, glaring back at them without speaking. Turning her head to one side, she spit out a spray of blood, the red drops hovering vividly against the black background.

“Alright,” she said. Her beautiful features were twisted by simmering fury. “No more games, then. No more tricks. _No more screwing around._ ” Loud, sharp cracks could be heard now from within the ice, and fissures began to appear in its surface. “I’ll kill you all. I’ll _damn_ you all.” The ice shattered, and Lilithmon reared back, her size seeming to double in her rage. _“And I’ll do it now!”_

The last word became a scream, and Lilithmon raised both hands over her head. Between them a large purplish mass of crackling, sparking energy formed, and she hurled it towards the mass of her enemies. Its size increased rapidly as it sped towards them; Garudamon, Zudomon, and AtlurKabuterimon moved to block it, and all three were caught in it before it exploded. For a moment there was pandemonium as the released energy ran riot in the void. The partner Digimon flashed yellow and devolved to their Child forms, and the children were blown backwards.

Lilithmon let out a savage yell of triumph as she saw her scattered opponents hang motionless in the void. She noticed that two of her opponents had not devolved. She wasn’t worried. WarGreymon still stood, but his armor was cracked and tarnished. MetalGarurumon had been spared the worst of the blast, but he was in no condition to fight. Chunks of his body had now disappeared entirely, but from the glazed look of his eyes she could see that he still felt them hurt.

Lilithmon began to laugh, and laugh harder, great peals of laughter shrilling through the nothingness around her. She laughed at those who had thought they might stand up to her. She laughed at their inadequate strength and their useless, stupid virtues. She laughed and laughed, and there was nothing of the girlish in it, or the womanish, or even the human. This was Lilithmon the Demon Lord – evil unrepentant, unabashed – triumphant over weak flesh and petty morality.

“This is it, Chosen Children!” she screamed through sharpened teeth. “This is the end, fools!” she howled, and there was only blackness in her eyes. “Thought you could challenge me!? ME!?”

There was no answer. She stood there, in perfect silence, daring any of them to reply. Saliva that was dark with blood dribbled from between her saw-blade teeth and down her chin. Her skin was now corpse-white instead of pink. Her sensuous veneer had vanished to reveal the monster beneath.

“Lilithmon.”

WarGreymon’s voice surprised her. She jerked forward, pointing like an attack dog, gnashing her teeth.

“It’s not over yet,” WarGreymon continued. He spoke slowly, but there was strength behind his words. “We’re not dead. We can still fight. We have something to fight for, and people to protect. You have nothing. I’ll prove it.”

Behind him, the Chosen Children and their partners began to stir.

“WarGreymon…” Taichi murmured, trying to cut through the shock that the last attack had left him in.

“Come on, Lilithmon!” WarGreymon cried. With Dramon Killers at the ready, he charged towards her.


	80. Spirit

_“For man’s only weapon is courage that flinches not from the gates of Hell itself, and against such not even the legions of Hell can stand.” – Robert E. Howard, “Skulls in the Stars”_

As WarGreymon shot forward, Lilithmon leaped to meet him. To all appearances, his would be the advantage in a physical struggle, but he knew that it was best to get in the first strike. As she drew within range he thrust one of the Dramon Killers towards her, aiming for the center of her body. But instead of trying to dodge as he had expected, Lilithmon shot her right hand up to intercept his attack. Her golden claws closed on the three blades of WarGreymon’s weapon. His momentum pushed her back a distance, but her grip was unbreakable.

WarGreymon looked into her face, surprised, and saw the maniac smile she wore. His eyes darted to the Dramon Killer itself, and he saw what she was smiling about. The Chrome Digizoid of his weapon was beginning to discolor and darken. Lilithmon swung around, taking WarGreymon with her. Her hand tightened its grip on the metal of the Dramon Killer and crushed it, breaking off the weapon’s points and sending Taichi’s partner flying.

Halting himself, WarGreymon looked at his ruined weapon in disbelief. Chrome Digizoid was among the most resilient materials in existence, and Lilithmon had destroyed it effortlessly. He could see her in the distance over the shattered claws, still grinning fiercely.

“This time it will be your skin!” she yelled, flinging herself towards him once more. But he had no intention of letting her come within grasping distance.

**“Gaia Force!”**

Lilithmon didn’t slacken her approach. She met the sphere of red-hot energy head-on, greeting it with her gray phosphorescence and cleaving right through it. She emerged ready to strike again with Nazar Nail – but she didn’t see WarGreymon.

**“Gaia Force!”**

This time his attack came from behind, and it struck home as Lilithmon whirled to meet it. The burning orb exploded on impact, and for a moment Lilithmon disappeared in the blast.

“Nice, WarGreymon!” Taichi called. The Chosen Children had regained their balance, and while most of them went to make sure their partners were alright, Taichi had started running through the aether to close some of the distance between himself and his partner. He stopped part of the way there, because now Lilithmon could be seen again. She stood where she had been, damaged by the Gaia Force, but far from dead.

“Think you’re clever?” she snapped, addressing WarGreymon. “You’ll regret taking me for a fool. Come,” she said, stalking forward on black air. “Feel my touch!”

In the meantime, Yamato had reached MetalGarurumon where he lay. Apart from their devolution, the other partner Digimon seemed to be fine, but MetalGarurumon’s condition was only worsening as Lilithmon’s terrible attack ate into him.

“MetalGarurumon?”

Yamato knelt beside his partner, not hesitating to place his hands on MetalGarurumon’s flank, from which ever-widening sections were missing. “Can you hear me?”

“Ya…mato…” The Digimon’s eyes regained something of their former focus. “I’m – I’m glad you’re safe. This is…okay now…”

“No,” Yamato said. “No, it’s not okay. What are you talking about? Dying!?” His tone was angry, but his partner knew it for concern. “You’re going to beat this!”

MetalGarurumon tried to reply, but only succeeded in shuddering through the length of his body. Sora came to stand behind Yamato, cradling a battered Piyomon in her arms.

“What did she do to him?” she asked, gently.

“I don’t know,” Yamato said, not looking at her. He leaned again over his partner. “I know it hurts,” he said, “but you can’t give up now. You didn’t let me give up on myself, and I’m going to do the same for you.”

“It’s hard… Yamato…” MetalGarurumon whispered. “It’s…the worst thing…I’ve ever felt.”

“So what?” Yamato said, choking back tears. “You can do it. Like always. Aren’t we going to be friends together, forever?”

“Forever…”

MetalGarurumon tensed and trembled, but if he was trying to rise to his feet he was unable to. In Sora’s arms, Piyomon stirred, and indicated that she wanted to be let down.

“That’s right,” she said to her friend. “Sora and Yamato and the others still need us. We’ve got to stick together.”

Sora nodded as she put a hand on Yamato’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.

“The fight’s not over,” Gomamon said. Jou and the others had gathered at Yamato’s back, and Gomamon was watching the dance to the death that was playing out beyond Taichi. “WarGreymon needs your help.”

MetalGarurumon made another attempt to move, growling with the effort.

“This is awful,” Mimi said, dropping her eyes. “I just want this fight to be over. Lilithmon didn’t need to start it. We shouldn’t have to do this!”

“There are always going to be fights starting, Mimi-san,” Koshiro said. “But we can’t ignore them.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s not what I meant.” She looked at MetalGarurumon. “I wish there was more I could do to help…”

In the distance, WarGreymon ducked under Lilithmon’s claws and sliced upwards with his undamaged Dramon Killer, but Lilithmon’s dodge was equally effortless. Using her left hand she blasted her opponent with another bolt of energy, knocking him away. Coming to a stop he waited for her next move, expecting another attempt to get the corrosive claws into his flesh. But Lilithmon wasn’t looking at him. She turned her head towards the place where the Chosen Children, minus Taichi, were gathered about MetalGarurumon.

“Disgusting,” she said. “I can feel their idiotic goodness from here.” She glanced at WarGreymon, appraising him, as if making a decision about whether or not to step on an insect. But she only shrugged and grinned. “Watch how I end this game,” she said, and darted away, towards the humans.

“Damn it!” WarGreymon growled. He took off after her, following in the wake of her dark wings as she swooped towards his friends. She might not intend to kill the Chosen Children, but whatever she had in mind needed to be stopped regardless. “Taichi!”

Taichi saw Lilithmon bearing down on him, but he also saw that WarGreymon wouldn’t be able to intercept her, and stood his ground. Her left hand caught him around the neck, knocking the breath out of him as he was swept along towards the other Chosen Children. She spread her wings and came to a stop, floating in the air before them, still holding Taichi. He tried to pry her off with both hands, but was unable to break her vice-grip. WarGreymon was about to tackle her from behind, but he stopped in midflight when he saw that her right hand was hovering threateningly over his partner’s forehead.

“Don’t you ever get tired of your clichés?” Lilithmon asked, addressing the Chosen Children as a group. The partner Digimon made a move to put themselves between Lilithmon and the humans, but the Chosen Children wouldn’t let them, instead standing beside or in front of them, or throwing protective arms about them. The Chosen Children knew that with the Digimon in their Child forms, Lilithmon could erase them effortlessly.

“You can’t still have any hope of winning, can you?” Lilithmon asked. She was calm again, but her flirtatiousness had disappeared. She was done bothering with her mimicry of human emotions. “Your Love and Friendship haven’t done you any good, and your Courage and Purity cannot protect you.” She looked down at MetalGarurumon’s trembling form. She looked at Taichi, watching his struggle to free himself. “But you still fight,” she said, “Even in the face of annihilation you cling to your illusions. Then I have one last thing to show you.”

She withdrew her right hand from Taichi’s vicinity, and held it palm upwards in front of her. A pinprick of light appeared in the blackness above, and began to widen into a portal out of the void. Even Yamato looked up from his partner, and the Chosen Children watched to see what the opening would reveal. Some of them, maybe all of them, feared that it would open on their missing friends – already beyond their help, and as carefully and horrifically arranged as the rest of Lilithmon’s victims.

Instead, Taichi recognized with relief a sideways view of the room he had discovered after destroying Lilithmon’s monster. Atop the table still lay the great transparent globe, with its swirling violet mist within it. As if gravity had been redirected, the globe slid off the tabletop, not rolling, but falling from the dim-lit room and landing in Lilithmon’s outstretched hand.

“Any idea what this is?” Lilithmon asked. No one answered. “Last night my subordinate Phelesmon was destroyed, but his collection remains in my possession. These are all the human souls he collected during his time in the real world!”

The Chosen Children gasped in unison.

“W-What do you mean?” Mimi said, loosing her hold on Palmon.

“Exactly what I say,” Lilithmon answered. “Before we arrived here he had to settle on the lesser souls of Digimon, using them to increase his power and mine. But _these_ …” Her sharp smile returned as she gazed into the orb in her hand. “These are on a different level.”

She flung Taichi away from her, towards WarGreymon, and with a flap of her wings repositioned so that she could see all of her enemies at once. In her hand the glass sphere began to smoke and melt, until only the dense knot of souls was left in her palm.

“Watch this, Chosen Children! I will show you the only good use for your pathetic souls, and your vapid emotions!”

She squeezed her claws into a tight fist. There was no sound, but everyone present could feel the stolen souls screaming in their minds. The violet mists rolled over Lilithmon’s body and were absorbed into it. The visible damage that had been done to the demoness over the course of the battle disappeared, washed away by the spiritual tide. Lilithmon floated before the Chosen, resplendent, her image restored and the gold of the right hand shining. Gray non-light pulsed from her as she laughed her derision.

“Isn’t it so obvious now?” she sneered. “If you had put all your touchy-feely talk aside and turned to fear and sorrow and hatred, you might have had a chance!” She fixed her eyes on MetalGarurumon’s dissipating body. “You’re taking much too long to die!” She dived towards him, Nazar Nail ready to strike.

“MetalGarurumon!” Yamato screamed, throwing himself across his partner as if to shield him. Lilithmon came onward. Sora stepped reflexively in front of her boyfriend, and Lilithmon’s left hand whipped out to backhand her across the face, knocking her out of the way. Behind her, Lilithmon heard Taichi call out his partner’s name, and in the next moment her claws sank at last into flesh – not MetalGarurumon’s, but WarGreymon’s.

“Idiots!” she shrieked in triumph, working the Nazar Nail deeper into WarGreymon, gratified by his screams, overcome with excitement. “If you all wanted to die so badly, you need only have said the word!”

It took her a moment to notice that Taichi was tugging on her right arm, trying to remove it from his partner. Enraptured as she was with the agony she was causing, she may never have noticed if she hadn’t heard the boy speak.

“You’re the idiot!” he yelled at her in fury, his eyes wet with tears. “You still don’t understand anything!”

“There’s nothing to understand,” she said, almost sweetly. “Weakness is weakness. Now let go.”

“No!”

“Don’t trifle with me, boy.”

“Shut up!”

Lilithmon rolled her eyes and grasped Taichi’s shoulder to move him out of the way, when suddenly six green tendrils wrapped themselves around the same arm he was holding onto so desperately.

“Palmon!” Mimi exclaimed.

“Fighting to save people is the kind of fighting we always need to be doing,” Palmon said.

Mimi actually smiled. “You’re right… Go, Palmon!”

**“Magical Fire!”  
“Marching Fishes!”  
“Petit Thunder!”**

Lilithmon snarled as the other Digimon’s various attacks struck her face without dealing damage.

“You—” she stammered, “You – idiots!”

“I think you have a lot to learn about the soul, Lilithmon,” Koshiro told her. Strangely, in that moment the statement didn’t seem like bravado. It seemed like an obvious fact, and one that deserved to be stated.

“Keep it up, Gomamon!” Jou shouted.

Lilithmon scoffed in disgust. She turned her attention back to destroying WarGreymon from within, but something seemed wrong. She wasn’t feeling well. She felt drained. And soon she and the others could see why. The souls she had absorbed were leaking back out of her. Her crawling gray aura began to do strange things – she could see color in it. Orange, where Taichi had hold of her arm, red, near where Sora now stood, blue, around Yamato as he crouched over his partner.

“No…” Lilithmon murmured. “No, no, no. This isn’t happening…”

It was happening. More colors began to appear – Mimi’s green, Koshiro’s purple, and Jou’s honest, cleanly gray. Lilithmon watched in horror as the Nazar Nail was thrust out of WarGreymon’s body. Taichi and Palmon were forced to release her arm as she was blown backwards, leaving golden fragments in the air as her claws cracked and splintered. The blackness was full of light and colors now, shining brightest about the two Ultimate-level partner Digimon. 

Lilithmon shielded her eyes from the glare. When it faded and she looked back, there stood WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon, their armor and bodies restored. The Chosen Children stood by them, looking nearly as surprised as she felt. Slowly a full realization of what had happened came to her, and her face contorted impossibly in her utter hatred, raging fury, and sudden fear. She reared back with a wordless scream of rage, and her mystic circles appeared in the air before her.

**“Phantom Pain!”**

The black bolts leapt forward, now visible in the new brightness of the cold void, and as they came WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon drew in enormous power with which to greet them.

**“Gaia Force!”  
“Cocytus Breath!”**

Shining blue and orange swirled into a single attack, engulfing and annihilating the black of Lilithmon’s spell. Then the blast hit Lilithmon herself. There was an explosion, the demon lord’s shrill scream, and, finally, a light that began to dissolve the black abyss.


	81. The Basements

_“Nothing was found – in fact, the building was entirely deserted when visited – but the sensitive Celt was vaguely disturbed by many things about the interior.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Horror at Red Hook”_

Space didn’t return to normal all at once. The light generated by that last attack burned open rifts in Lilithmon’s created space, revealing a number of rooms in the building she had turned into a maze. The rifts let in the dim lighting of the subbasement, and the temperature slowly rose from the cold of the void to the coolness of the building’s air conditioning. As the widening tears in the blackness began to meet, the location of one would supersede the location of the other, so that by the time the abyss had vanished entirely the humans and Digimon were left in a single large room, at one end of which was the doorway that WarGreymon had demolished at the beginning of the battle.

The Chosen Children and their partners settled slowly to the hardwood floor. Lilithmon was already on it, collapsed. Her Nazar Nail had been shattered, and other parts of her body were beginning to dissolve into effervescent darkness. She was still alive – though that would not last long – and her eyes still roved from one person to the next, incredulous at what had happened.

“Alright, Lilithmon,” Taichi said, breaking the silence. “No more games. Where are they?”

“What are you talking about?” she said. Her eyes narrowed and her expression turned bitter. She looked at her enemies with a hatred that she no longer had the power to act upon. It was a look that had no interest in games. It was the look of a hungry predator behind the bars of a zoo.

“Where are they?” Taichi angrily repeated. “Hikari, Daisuke, Takeru, and the others.”

“How should I know?” she spat. “They were supposed to be _here._ ” She scraped her cracked golden claws across the floor, lowering her eyes to watch their progress in morbid fascination. “ _Look_ what you’ve _done_ …”

Yamato hadn’t spoken yet because up until that moment he had forgotten his conversation with Lilithmon in the restroom. Her burning whispers and the battle that followed them had driven it from his mind. But now he remembered.

“They…aren’t here,” he said.

“What?” Taichi turned towards him. “What do you mean they’re not here?”

“She told me,” Yamato said. “She doesn’t know where Takeru and the rest are either.”

“We can’t trust her!” Taichi exploded, his anger a mask for the fear that came pouring back into him.

“He may be right, Taichi-san,” Koshiro said. “Lilithmon never indicated that she was holding Hikari-san and the others.”

“And BlackTailmon didn’t know either, remember?” Yamato said. 

“They – they’ve got to be here,” Taichi said. “Where else could they be?” He looked wildly about the room, as if ready to tear it apart to look for them.

“Is this building the enemy base?” Jou asked. “Maybe they’re on a different floor or something.”

“They aren’t,” Lilithmon said. “I would have felt them. Oh, I would have felt them…” She was looking up at the Chosen Children again now, and a hint of her old smug smile played about her face. “And if you can’t find them, He must have them. And if He has them…you’ll never get them back.”

“Who?” Sora asked.

“The Dark One,” Lilithmon answered. “The one whose power is beyond even mine. The one who will put an end to all you Chosen Children at last, one way or another.” Her body’s rate of disintegration was growing more rapid – as much of her was gone now as had been missing from MetalGarurumon before a miracle saved him from her spell. And yet she chuckled. “At least I can go back into the dark knowing that your time draws near.”

“Who is he?” asked Sora, persisting, with irritation in her voice. “Why have you done all this to us?”

“By the time you find out, it will be far too late,” Lilithmon said. She was fading away fast. Soon she would be irrevocably dead. Anubimon, had he been there, would have known immediately where he should send her data, but this was the human world, where there was no decision to be made.

“Tell us now!” Taichi said.

“I won’t tell you anything,” Lilithmon snapped back at him. In an instant her mocking calm disappeared, swept away in a fresh burst of rage and hatred. “You bastards! You killed me! You killed _me!_ I hope they make you suffer! I know they will! You can’t stop him, and all the others like me!”

As always, her anger gave her strength – what was left of her rose grotesquely from the floor, jerking and twisting like a sea creature reaching for air-breathing prey. As one, the Chosen Children took an involuntary step backward, away from the monster that looked like a woman.

“You killed _MEEEE!_ ” she screeched – it was the only death she had ever mourned – and then the rest of her was gone, leaving only a gray oiliness in the air that dispersed in another moment. It was as if she had never been…and for that the Chosen Children were thankful.

WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon devolved, returning to Agumon and Gabumon. They did so out of necessity, not out of choice – whatever power had invested them with the energy to destroy Lilithmon, it had exhausted itself. Which was worrisome, because none of the Chosen had any idea of where they were, or whether there were other hostile forces present, or how they could get out of this showcase of horrors.

And then there was the question of their abducted friends.

“Damn it…” Taichi breathed. “Damn it!”

“At least Lilithmon is destroyed,” Yamato said. There was no one gladder than he that Lilithmon’s vile influence was gone. It had wormed its way deepest into him, and it would be a long time before he could wash away the scum it had left on his soul. But it was the other Chosen Children who mattered now. “There’s still a chance that Takeru and the others are here somewhere.”

“You’re right,” Taichi said. “Let’s get looking for them.”

Koshiro wasn’t feeling optimistic, but he didn’t voice his doubts. All he said was, “We still have to be careful.”

“That’s right,” Mimi said. “Didn’t she say that there were other Digimon in this world?”

“But,” Jou pointed out, “Nobody came to help her during the fight. Maybe she was just bluffing.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Taichi said. “Are you coming or not?”

They followed him, each human with their partner Digimon at their side. Piyomon, Tentomon, Palmon, and Gomamon felt fine now, and didn’t stop to think about why. Questions about what exactly had saved the group would have to wait until they could put this place well behind them.

The search began. Knowing approximately where they were, it became a matter of systematically checking the places that they had not already explored. The pockets of cold blackness had vanished completely with Lilithmon’s deletion, and there was little worry of getting lost. Almost immediately they found a staircase leading upwards, which was not surprising. Wherever they were, it seemed to be a basement of some kind, since there were no windows anywhere. The place was smaller than they expected; it seemed that collectively they had seen about all of it.

There was only one grisly exhibit left for them to find, but the horror of it paled that of the others. Taichi opened the door to a darkened room – a natural darkness, not one of Lilithmon’s artificial planes. In other rooms they had encountered the smell of death, but in this one the stench was so intense that they nearly choked on it, and fell back from the door.

“Let’s leave it,” Mimi groaned, her words muffled through her hands, clasped over her mouth and nose.

“We can’t,” Taichi said reluctantly. “There may be another door inside that we’ve missed.”

Still, he made no move forward. There was something else the room might possibly contain, but the thought was too terrible to form into words. All of his recent nightmares went creeping through his head, none more vivid than the dream of the hallway, and the murdered bodies of the six people now missing. His eyes met Yamato’s, he could see that his friend had had the same thought. For a moment they stared at each other helplessly, unable to retreat, unable to move forward.

“Here,” said Jou at last. “Let me see if I can get the lights on.” He stepped to the open doorway. He didn’t want to see what was in there any more than the others did, but he was on his way to becoming a doctor – he would need to get used to horrors. Sora, Koshiro, and Mimi had to look away, but Taichi and Yamato could not. Jou’s hand groped along the inner wall, looking for a light switch, shaking as he thought about what else he might encounter in the dark. But he found what he was looking for, and flipped the switch.

The scene in the illuminated room was not carefully arranged as the others had been. There were three bodies, lying in random positions on the floor. No other exit to the room, and no sign of anyone the Chosen Children knew. So the light was turned off again, and the door was shut.

“All these people,” Jou said quietly, and the three who hadn’t looked didn’t need to ask what the room contained. “We can’t just leave them here. The police should be called, at least.”

“If we can determine the address of this building,” Koshiro said, looking up, “We’ll let them know. But first we need to find a way out, and make sure that there are no other Digimon left in the building. Earlier the police attempted to fight SkullSatamon, and failed.”

“You don’t think there are any more, do you?” Jou asked.

“I can’t say,” Koshiro said. “But we know that there are at least two other enemy Digimon somewhere in Tokyo: that black Tailmon, and whatever it was that attacked Chiho-san and the others.”

“Come on,” Taichi said, recovered from the scare of the darkened room and fired up at the mention of the enemy. “We aren’t doing any good just standing here.”

They backtracked to the staircase, the only way out. The Digimon took the lead as the group ascended, but their partners were close behind. Empty of threats though the subbasement was, they felt intensely the presence of the dead in the dim, silent rooms beneath them.

The next level up was not much different from the one they had left – still devoid of windows. There were no bodies there, though they could see disturbing evidence that there had been. It appeared that the demons’ victims had been killed here before being redistributed in preparation for the Chosen Children’s arrival. There was still no sign of their missing friends, but they did find what appeared to be two exits. One was the door to a staircase like the one they had come up, and it was locked. The other was a door to an underground parking garage, and it was open.

There were a number of vehicles parked in the echoing concrete space, but no other signs of life. At the far end they could see where the concrete sloped upwards beyond a parking gate – a way out.

They had been standing there without speaking, feeling the relative freshness of the air, when there was a loud click behind them. Taichi whirled around – they had forgotten to hold open the door to the building itself. He tried the handle, but it had locked automatically. Beside the door was a card reader of some kind, waiting for a key they didn’t have.

“Damn it!” Taichi said, not caring how loudly his voice echoed in the garage.

“We’re out…” Mimi said, confused at his anger.

“But we aren’t done in there!” Yamato said. “Regardless of what Lilithmon said, the others might still be in that building!”

“Alright,” Taichi said. “We’ll just have to break the door down.”

“Wait, Taichi-san,” said Koshiro. “We don’t know what the building is used for. It would be better to bring the police. We can’t search the whole place by ourselves.”

“I can try,” Taichi said, his voice soft and intense.

Koshiro looked at the others, hoping for support.

“I…think Koshiro-kun is right,” Sora said. Taichi and Yamato looked at her, suddenly unsure of what to say. She had been reluctant to contradict them – she knew what they were suffering on account of their siblings. But then, she was worried about the others too. She had a right to speak up. And Koshiro was right; they couldn’t tear an entire building apart without running into problems with the people using it – people who, after all, couldn’t all be aware of the horrors that the structure concealed.

“And our parents will be worried too,” she continued. In her mind’s eye she saw her mother’s pale face, staring at a clock, perhaps, and wondering when her little girl would be home. “We’re going to need help with this.”

Taichi and Yamato looked at her together for a few seconds of silence. She dropped her eyes, but caught herself and immediately looked back up again. She hoped they could read everything in her expression, the interplay of sympathy and conviction.

“Alright,” Yamato said at last. “We need to find a phone.”


	82. Watchers

_“I recall that the people went about with pale and worried faces, and whispered warnings and prophecies which no one dared consciously repeat or acknowledge to himself that he had heard. A sense of monstrous guilt was upon the land, and out of the abysses between the stars swept chill currents that made men shiver in dark and lonely places.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “Nyarlathotep”_

Hiraga was standing outside the building with a cigarette in his hand. Maybe he should have been inside, in case something went wrong with Lilithmon’s plan, but the evening was a stressful one, and stress meant that it was time to smoke. He’d been told time and again that he was not to engage his employer’s enemies directly. Initially it had been a matter of keeping a low profile – Sato didn’t want the kids tipped off that something was about to happen. But before long Hiraga had realized that Sato also didn’t trust him to go up against those partner Digimon. Hiraga had felt a little insulted at first, but he couldn’t argue with what they had achieved.

So maybe it didn’t matter. If only a Digimon had the power to compete with another Digimon, there was nothing that he could do in case Lilithmon failed, whether he was inside or not. So he continued smoking.

The evening was quiet, or at least as quiet as a night in Tokyo ever was. If there was a battle raging somewhere below his feet, there was no sign of it. But he knew it almost certainly was going on. He’d never thought of Lilithmon as being imposing, but he could recognize a killer when he saw one. There was another Digimon somewhere in the city tonight as well, and what seemed like a peaceful night from where Hiraga was standing would be something very different for an unlucky few. Like Koshiro, the mercenary had been monitoring news and police reports, and had drawn the same conclusions.

He was finished with his cigarette. Grinding it out on the pavement, he took a last look around him before heading back inside. And so he happened to see a small group of people come around the corner of the building, about ten meters from where he was standing. He recognized them immediately, but had to look twice nonetheless, because why would the children Lilithmon was supposed to be dealing with be wandering around outside? But it was them. Something had gone wrong. And there were other things with them – things he had never seen, but which he knew must be their partner Digimon, looking ridiculously out of place on a city street.

His first thought was to duck back into the shelter of the building, but instead he told himself to remain still. The teens were looking around themselves, and a few looked in his direction, but gave no sign of recognition. He averted his eyes, but continued to watch them from his peripheral vision. They seemed to be confused about where they were, and were talking amongst themselves about it. He counted them. Only six. Were the others still inside? Perhaps he should go back in and regroup with Lilithmon – assuming Lilithmon was still alive.

He still hadn’t moved when the group seemed to come to a decision and crossed the street, where one of them entered another building. Hiraga turned around and headed back inside himself. Using his key card he was able to access the oversized elevator and rode it down as far as it would go before stepping out into the central computer room.

It didn’t take him long to get a grasp on the situation. Lilithmon had vanished, and the subbasement was devoid of life. Obviously something had gone wrong. The other six children, like Lilithmon, were nowhere to be found, so they must not have come in the first place. The black, cat-like Digimon wasn’t in the building either – for all he knew it was still in Odaiba somewhere.

Sato Katsu would have to be informed. If Lilithmon was dead, Hiraga’s employer probably knew already, and would want an explanation. Hiraga returned to the room used for private communication with Sato’s headquarters in the other world. He opened the connection, but couldn’t get a response. Sato didn’t answer.

After trying several more times, Hiraga gave up and began to turn things over in his mind. First Lilithmon’s plan had failed and now Sato had disappeared. In all probability, neither was good news for him. Suppose that the escaped children contacted the authorities. For one thing, Hiraga would need to have the basements cleaned out, and quickly. For another, it was time to start making backup plans. Since being hired, Hiraga had been living in this building, secure in the knowledge that he was essentially off the grid. Now that security was compromised.

Fortunately, he had a safe house already prepared nearby – an apartment that he had rented under an assumed name. If things got too hot for him around here, he could relocate quickly, possibly in preparation for leaving the country and disappearing for a while. He had always had a sneaking suspicion that this job would end badly. With the involvement of the Digimon, other worlds, and an alleged epidemic of nightmares, it was almost too bizarre to turn out otherwise.

So yes, he would make plans. If the ship began to sink, he would have a lifeboat ready.

***

Benjamin was the last to arrive. About an hour ago Gennai had received his message concerning what he had found in the last known location of the Chosen Children: a number of buildings in the desert, all ancient, and all utterly abandoned. Of the children there was no sign. Neither Gennai nor Koshiro had been able to remotely detect them anywhere in the Digital World, and to all appearances they had left it entirely.

Gennai had called a meeting of all six Agents soon after Benjamin’s report came in, requesting that they join him in his residence under the lake. The group had no official leader, but Gennai was the original from which the others had been separated at their creation, and in most matters they deferred to him. A gathering like this was uncommon, but with the situation as it was, none of them saw it as unnecessary.

Benjamin slid open the door to the dining room and took his place on one of the cushions arranged in a semicircle, facing Gennai where he stood near a screen. José, Ilya, Jackie, and Eucaly were already seated. To most observers, the six people in the room were physically identical, but the Agents could discern the differences in coding that set each apart from the other.

“So,” Gennai said once Benjamin was seated, “We’re all here. I called this meeting for a number of reasons, but foremost because, as we now know, it appears that six of the Chosen Children have fallen into the hands of the enemy. Also missing are their Digivices, what Koshiro calls the D-3s. As a result, the other Chosen Children are unable to enter the Digital World.”

“But there has to be a way that we can let them return,” said one of the others.

“There is,” Gennai said, “if we are given time. And, of course, if it is really necessary for the Chosen Children to come to this world, the powers that govern it will make it possible. If nothing else, there are now other children in Japan who possess D-3s, and who could let Koshiro and the rest in. But it isn’t necessary if we want to rescue the captured Chosen Children. They are no longer in the Digital World.”

“In the human world, then?” someone asked.

“Or in the World of Darkness,” Gennai responded.

“We have no way of knowing which is more likely,” observed another Agent.

“Under these circumstances? No. If the human world, we may be able to help find them, but our resources are limited. And… I’m afraid that there is more bad news. The enemy has surrounded the Village of Beginnings on File Island. They have not attacked it, but it looks as though they intend to isolate it.”

“So…” Benjamin said, “V-mon and the others may really have been destroyed.”

“That’s what it looks like. Now if they are reborn, they too will fall into the enemy’s hands, being unable to evolve.”

“Isn’t there a way to free the village? Can’t we send reinforcements?” asked Jackie.

Gennai shook his head, frowning. “I’m afraid not. The remaining six Chosen Children might be able to do it, but not with the Dark Towers that have recently been placed around the village. The children who received D-3s in December are untried in battle, and do not have Digimentals. For now, the village is lost.”

“Do you mean that without the twelve Chosen Children we cannot act?” one of the Agents said. “Have we been defeated so quickly?”

“Perhaps so,” said Ilya, “if the Chosen Children, who we had thought to be invincible, have been defeated. Maybe even killed,” he added, looking at Gennai.

Gennai took a moment before replying. It had been a long time since the situation had looked so grim. While the Chosen Children had been out there, fighting on behalf of the Digital World, even if outmatched, there had been no call for despair. Now… Now the chances of victory were looking bleak. Today was one of the few days in his long, long life that Gennai truly felt old.

“Yes,” he said at last. “They may have been killed. We have no way of knowing whether we would be able to detect them if this is the case, since there is no record of a human having ever died in the Digital World. If they are dead, then perhaps all really is lost. But if they are alive, there is a chance, no matter how slim. We have seen too many miracles in our time to doubt it.”

“Do we know what could have destroyed their partner Digimon?” asked one of the Agents.

“We can’t say for sure,” Gennai answered. “We know that there are Ultimate-level Digimon among our enemies. One of them is the demon lord Lilithmon, who the remaining Chosen Children are facing with the power of WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon. She is in the human world, but there are other powerful enemy Digimon here in this world.”

“You mean the one that defeated the younger Chosen Children?” someone asked.

“And others. We don’t know how many there may be. One which won in the desert, and another that has won in the sea.”

“In the sea?”

“Two nights ago, an Ultimate-level Digimon called Neptunemon failed in the duty given to him by the Four Holy Beasts. He was guarding something crucial to this world’s safety in the deepest part of the ocean, but somehow the enemy was able to defeat him and erase the seal he was protecting.”

“One of the seals…” José murmured. “You mean…?”

“Yes,” Gennai said. “And there are now none left. The Seeds of Light planted less than a year ago have yet to mature. Without the seals and without the Holy Stones, the Digital World is in greater danger than ever. And as I was saying, Neptunemon could only have been defeated by yet another powerful Digimon unknown to us.”

“Could Neptunemon have joined the enemy?” someone asked.

“It’s possible,” Gennai said. “Either way, we are threatened by a group of enemies whose combined evil power has not been seen since the time of the Dark Masters.”

There was silence for a moment, broken by Eucaly. “And we still don’t know who has organized this?”

“I’m afraid we do not,” Gennai said. “Perhaps other Demon Lords are involved, as Lilithmon is, but all we can do is guess.”

And that was the unfortunate truth. Demon was a possibility, though there was no indication that he had escaped once more from the World of Darkness after he was banished there in December. According to the Chosen Children, there seemed to be humans involved in the conspiracy, but no one could say for certain how they knew what they knew, or why they were aiding the forces of Darkness.

But there was a possible answer to one of those questions. Gennai kept returning to what he had asked Qinglongmon on the previous night: Where were the original Chosen Children? If the enemy was interested in collecting the current Chosen Children for sinister purposes, might they also be the explanation for the disappearance of Qinglongmon’s long-forgotten partner and the others?

But by this time, when the hour was so late, perhaps the answers to these questions did not matter. There was no time left. For years the attacks on the Digital World’s stability had been coming, incessant. Apocalymon and Millenniumon distorting the flow of time. The Dark Masters sealing away the Holy Beasts. The Dark Towers distorting space. The Holy Stones destroyed. And all the while the darkness eating away at the barriers, seeking a way in, sucking greedily at the worlds of light as the ocean erodes a shoreline. Something had waited a long time for this. It had waited and waited, watched and manipulated, never revealing itself, until the defenders of the beleaguered light could no longer hold their ground.

Gennai was called back to the present when a sound behind him announced the arrival of an email. Turning to the screen, he and his five clones read what it said:

_Gennai-san,_   
_WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon managed to destroy Lilithmon, but we haven’t found Daisuke-san and the others. We have called the police to investigate the place where Lilithmon was hiding, but I don’t know how much help they will be. There are still enemy Digimon in our world, and we will try to eliminate them, but we want to save our friends. Any help you can give us would be appreciated._   
_Koshiro_

Gennai smiled thinly. At least six of the Chosen Children could fight another day. He had no comfort to offer them, but they gave him courage.

“We must have faith,” he said to his companions. “As long as those children are fighting for us, hope will never fade entirely.”

_Now,_ he thought, looking at the screen again, his smile disappearing. _If they can only find the strength to keep fighting._


	83. The Next Long Night

_“To declare that we were not nervous on that rainy night of watching would be an exaggeration both gross and ridiculous.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Shunned House”_

It was night now, utterly night. Lilithmon was gone, but rather than leaving the Chosen Children with a sense of victory, the battle’s outcome only underscored their sense of defeat. With their hopes of finding the others dashed, the night seemed more total somehow, more absolute. It settled thickly around them as they thought of their friends, and of what awaited them in their dreams.

Not wanting to be detained for questioning, they had not personally greeted the police, though they had stayed in the vicinity long enough to make sure that there was no further trouble. No battle had erupted, and eventually they had determined where they were in the city and made their way home via the subway. If the police found anything, Koshiro could learn what it was later. Of course, what they hoped to hear more than anything was that six children had been found unharmed among the building’s dead.

Little was said on the journey home. For the most part, each of them brooded over their own thoughts, not discussing them with the others because they knew they all felt the same way. The Yurikamome train was quiet as it made its way along Rainbow Bridge. There was no one on board besides the teens and their partners. Collectively the group had had money enough for the fare. Most of the Digimon were already asleep – the battle had left them tired and hungry.

It wasn’t a long ride, but it gave the Chosen Children some time to rest and gather their thoughts. Sora and Yamato were seated beside each other, while their partners sat across the aisle, dozing. The couple had hardly spoken since leaving the scene of the battle, either to each other or to anyone else. To Sora, Yamato seemed distant. She couldn’t really blame him – great as her own worry and disappointment were, she knew that his was greater. She wanted to ask him about those long minutes before they had found him, but for now she respected his silence.

He must have noticed her stealing a glance at him, because he stirred in his seat and muttered, “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay,” she said quietly.

There was another moment of silence, but eventually Yamato decided to break it. Partly it was because he felt that he owed her some kind of conversation, and partly because there was something he wanted to get off his chest. In recent times, Sora had increasingly become for him an emotional outlet, someone he could share his thoughts and feelings with as he had never done in the past.

“Do you remember from four years ago, on Spiral Mountain?” he asked.

“You mean that cave,” she said, “When I came looking for you.”

He nodded. They had both been thinking about it, but hadn’t brought it up until now. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or unsettled by the idea.

“Sometimes it feels like that, in the dreams,” he said. “And it was like that when Lilithmon was trying to…control me, but…different.”

“I know,” Sora said. “About the dreams, I mean. Mine are the same way.”

Just last night she had had a nightmare that reminded her of the pitch black that had swallowed her up in Piemon’s realm. This time it had been a vast pit out of which she was trying to climb. She could see nothing – only feel the smooth, sloping wall of rock that she was trying desperately to ascend. She couldn’t go down, didn’t dare fall, because there was something below waiting to catch her. Maybe it was only water, rising inexorably up the surface that gave her so much trouble, but it terrified her. She couldn’t touch it, not knowing what might be lurking beneath the surface. If it enveloped her, she would lose her mind.

“They feel so real now,” Yamato said, breaking in on her thoughts. “Like they aren’t even dreams anymore. Sometimes I feel…” He didn’t finish the sentence: _Sometimes I feel like I may not wake up._

Nearer the front of the train, Taichi stared out the window, catching glimpses of the lights of Odaiba across the darkness of the bay, not really seeing them. He kept wondering what he would do once he got back to the apartment. He imagined hearing a knock on the door, and opening it to find a policeman waiting outside. Would his little sister be standing there as well? Or would the officer be bringing bad news, with a terrifying professional sympathy in his eyes? Again Taichi felt the need to hit something, and again he had to restrain himself, simply clenching his fists atop his thighs as tightly as he could.

They were well over the water now. They couldn’t see it from the train, but they could sense it, sliding blackly beneath them. Dark water… it reminded Taichi of what little he had heard from Hikari and Takeru about that other place they had been to. They hadn’t talked much about it at the time, or later. It upset Hikari for one thing. He suspected that she hadn’t told the full story of what had happened, but he didn’t push her. Should he have?

That Dark Ocean had something to do with what was happening now, and none of them knew anything about it. All they had were theories and guesses. Taichi’s thoughts were beginning to mirror Koshiro’s. Both had realized that there was a possibility that the missing Chosen Children weren’t in the human world at all, but had been spirited away to that ocean. Only the younger Chosen Children had ever been there. Hikari and Takeru, Ken and Miyako. And now they were gone.

What was it that Hikari had told him? Things that looked like Digimon, but weren’t. A god they worshipped. Or were they afraid of it? He couldn’t remember the details, but he felt like they were important. He’d seen a gray ocean in several of his dreams, all of them involving his sister.

He could hear Yamato and Sora talking in low voices, seated somewhere behind him on the other side of the aisle. He hadn’t bothered to ask what had happened to Yamato after Lilithmon dropped him through the floor, and it was only now, when he was looking for something to take his mind off his apprehension, that he thought to wonder how Yamato had reunited with the others. Maybe that’s what they were talking about now, but he wouldn’t ask. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to do something productive, but there was nothing to be done.

He looked out the window again. They had almost reached Odaiba. Before long the Yurikamome would be pulling into the station right across the street from the Searea apartments. Thinking about home made him think about that black Tailmon. If she was smart, she wouldn’t have lingered. Angry as he had been at Lilithmon’s messenger when they met earlier in the evening, his mood had only gotten worse.

Suddenly he wanted to be home very badly. He wanted this ride to be over, so that Koshiro could find out what the police had uncovered. So that he would be free to pace again, and be able to make sure that his parents were safe. That is, if he could face them. For he had failed. Failed as a brother, and failed as a leader. He could direct his anger at Lilithmon, or BlackTailmon, or the people behind them, but the person he was most angry with was himself.

***

Hiraga had been relieved to learn that Sato’s group was prepared for an investigation by the authorities. He’d thought that that was probably the case, but had been ready to make a quick disappearance, all the same. The lower levels had to be cleaned up manually, and work began on that right away, but the computer systems could be backed up and wiped very quickly. It was equally simple to import enough data from outside the system to make it look like the organization was running a legitimate business. Sato’s compatriots knew their way around computers. Hiraga hadn’t thought that something so thorough could be done so quickly, but he couldn’t argue with the results.

Possibly the ploy wouldn’t have stood up to careful scrutiny. But whatever the kids had said when they contacted the cops, it didn’t cause the whole police department to descend on the building. A couple officers had arrived, looking nervous, but were soon put at ease by what seemed to be a perfectly legal setup. They came and went without discovering any of the bodies, which had been locked into a concealed vault, and would later be disposed of.

Hiraga was left feeling impressed – even a little awed. If it weren’t for the fact that the group’s plans were being constantly derailed by a bunch of children, they would be the perfect example of how a clandestine operation should be run.

Not that the impression convinced Hiraga to change his intention to make an emergency exit for himself. In fact, he had decided that he had stayed the night in his employer’s base of operations for the last time. Once the police had gone he excused himself and headed for his safe house. If Sato Katsu ever decided to finally contact him again, he could call.

***

Odaiba was new territory for BlackTailmon. The past couple nights there had been no convenient way for her to get there, and she was expected to avoid it because of the likelihood of her encountering the Chosen Children and being recognized as a Digimon. This evening she had gotten there using one of Lilithmon’s black portals. She’d expected the children’s battle with Lilithmon to have ended quickly in the demon lord’s favor, after which Lilithmon could open another portal and retrieve her messenger.

But now over an hour had passed, the sun had set, and she was essentially marooned on the island. She didn’t know the reason for it. The most likely explanation was that Lilithmon had simply forgotten about her, or abandoned her there as a cruel prank. The other explanation – one which she didn’t find at all likely – was that Lilithmon had been defeated, and she was now on her own.

So she was left sitting in the darkness of the trees, brooding. She’d been given no orders dictating what to do in a situation like this. She thought about reverting to her usual tourism. Maybe someone had left their little pet outside for her to stalk and kill. But this was where the other Tailmon lived – people would be more likely to recognize her here for what she was, especially if they were related to the Chosen Children. BlackTailmon’s perception of the human family unit was that it mainly functioned as a means of dealing with external threats more efficiently, and an external threat was exactly what she was.

But she had to do _something_ to pass the time. Having slept all day, she was ready to play in the darkness for a while. Getting back to headquarters could wait. If morning came around and it was clear that she wasn’t being transported back, then she could worry about how to leave the island. Once back on the mainland, she could… well, she could try to make her way back to the base. Assuming she recognized where she was.

She made a sour expression. It hadn’t occurred to her before that she might get lost in this alien world. Until tonight she’d been in no danger of it, with her innate sense of direction. But it couldn’t help her now that she was through Lilithmon’s portal. _Bitch,_ she thought. _Even if she’s dead now, she should have thought of a way to get me out of here._

BlackTailmon’s mood did not improve when the first raindrops began to fall.

***

“Are they dreaming?” Sato asked the Dark Man, watching the screen on which he could see the Chosen Children in their isolated cells, handcuffed and still unconscious. “Can they dream after what you’ve done to them?”

“No, probably not,” the Dark Man answered. “You wanted them out of it; I put them out of it. Does seem to be a shame, though, with them this close to the source of nightmare. I suppose you want me to put them back into play.”

“If possible, yes,” Sato said. “So that they can awake from one nightmare into another.” His eyes lingered a while longer on the screen before he turned away. “I should get to sleep as well. I have a busy night ahead of me.”

The Dark Man remained where he was as Sato left the room. Alone in the darkness, he chuckled.

“Oh, I’m sure. I’m sure…”


	84. The Operation

_“But [he] was sorry that he looked again; for surgeon and veteran of the dissecting-room though he was, he has not been the same since.” – H. P. Lovecraft,_ The Case of Charles Dexter Ward

The Chosen Children disembarked at the first Odaiba station, and walked from there to their nearby apartments. Regardless of what it felt like, they hadn’t been gone long – no more than a couple of hours – but it had been long enough for most of their parents to take notice. Yamato didn’t face much scrutiny; his father was working overtime again. But Sora’s mother had been waiting up for her daughter and guest, with the news of the previous night’s outrages fresh in her mind, and Koshiro’s mother hugged him tightly when he got home. He had left in a rush, and it was only now that he was able to give a fuller explanation.

On the part of all the children there was some reticence. They didn’t want to worry their parents unduly, and they weren’t in much of a mood to make repeated assurances that they themselves didn’t necessarily believe. It was clear that some of the parents had been communicating with each other. The story had gotten around that the younger Chosen Children would be staying the night in the Digital World. It was believed, but the adults were still understandably nervous, especially those who were not as used to the idea of their children being fighters.

After BelialVamdemon’s defeat, after Pukumon’s defeat, after Armagemon’s defeat, there had been hopes that the chaos was over for good. The last time it had really seemed to be the case. Four months passed without any sign of trouble. Daisuke and Miyako’s sisters had gotten their partners, and had a little adventure in the Digital World, but that had come to seem so minor in retrospect. At the time it had seemed like a sign of trouble to come, but no new villain had crawled out of the shadows to challenge the newly partnered Chosen Children, and things had quickly returned to normal.

But now normal was shattered again. They were beginning to think that maybe it would never truly return.

***

Despite the terrible excitement of the day, or perhaps because of it, Jou fell asleep very shortly after getting home. Gomamon, though no less tired, stayed up a while to eat a few bowls of the rice that Jou’s mother had made for dinner.

“I know you’ve got those dreams to worry about,” he had told his partner, “but I can’t dream them for you. May as well eat.”

Jou smiled a little at that. He knew that Gomamon cared for his wellbeing as much as any Chosen Child’s partner Digimon. He’d seen the little seal’s concern growing by the day, and he was thankful for the brave face Gomamon always put on in spite of anything. On the 1999 adventure, he had been the perfect foil for Jou’s pessimism, and their differences had established their friendship more firmly than any similarities might have.

Jou was especially grateful for Gomamon at times like these. He went to bed exhausted and worried about what had befallen his juniors, but at least he knew he had someone he could rely on, whatever dark times might be ahead. And there were dark times ahead, he knew. Nothing could entirely shield them from that.

That brought him back again to his missing friends. They had nothing at all to shield them from whatever was happening. He tried to imagine never seeing them again, and the thought made him sick to his stomach. The enemy hadn’t been trying to kill them, but how long would it be before they changed their minds? What was happening now to Takeru and Hikari, who he had shared so many adventures with, and earnest little Iori, and the rest?

Sleep came to him quickly, because he was tired, but the questions haunted him even into unconsciousness – what would happen to them, what would happen to him, and what could they do to fight back. Even deep in sleep the anxiety was there, like a dull ache. And before long, it made the transition from abstraction to the coherence of a dream that didn’t feel like a dream.

He was washing his hands. He put on gloves. He was nervous – terribly nervous – because what was coming would be difficult. It would be difficult and it would be horrible, perhaps the most horrible thing he had ever had to attempt: his first surgery. He wasn’t ready for this. There was so much studying he had yet to do, so much school left to take. But now here he was, standing over the patient, the surgical implements at the ready, and his fellow doctors were standing there as well, silently looking at him, waiting for him to begin.

Jou looked down the length of the operating table. The patient was essentially featureless. Not only was the room too dim to see them well enough, but a sheet had been draped over the entire body, concealing its identity. He couldn’t make out a definite shape. All that was visible was the small expanse of flesh where the incision was to be made, like a white canvas to be painted red.

Jou’s pulse was pounding. He looked at the other doctors, silently pleading that one of them step in to take charge of the situation. But each just stared back, unspeaking. Why was it so dark? A surgery couldn’t be conducted like this. He could barely make out the faces of his mute colleagues over their procedure masks – just their dark, staring eyes. None of them said a word, or made any move. It was his job to do, and he would have to do it.

Balancing his sense of duty against his rising panic, he reached for a scalpel. He could feel the cold of the metal through his glove, and it sent a chill through his whole body. The patient lay before him, already motionless and pale as a corpse. Fighting to keep his hand steady, he made his first incision. The blood began seeping out, and all the strength seemed to go out of his legs. He should have collapsed, but something – maybe the fixed gazes of the other doctors – held him on his feet.

He struggled to focus in spite of his faintness. He tried to complete the incision, but started back in horror when the body suddenly jerked under the knife. His back hit a wall that hadn’t been there before, and unable to retreat he watched the patient thrash and quiver, the scalpel sticking upright in the skin. There was a flailing of arms under the sheet. He hadn’t been able to discern any limbs before; it was as if the formerly amorphous patient had just now taken on a definite size and shape.

Jou was still conscious of the other doctors’ presence. He expected them to rush forward, gather around the patient, figure out what had gone wrong, but they only turned their heads to continue looking at him with expressionless expectation. His attention was drawn back to the patient when the moving arms threw the sheet off their face. Despite his fear Jou hurried to the head of the operating table, because in the dim lighting he thought that he had caught a glimpse of his father’s features. He shoved past the loitering doctors, only vaguely registering that instead of having solid bodies they seemed to be just hollow clothing.

The patient’s convulsions had somehow allowed the sheet to fall back into place, but Jou tore it off again. There was nothing beneath it. Dr. Kido – or at least someone – had been covered by that sheet, but now there was no patient at all. Jou turned in surprise back to the table, where only a lump lay hidden under the sheet. Without thinking, Jou tugged the sheet entirely off the operating table.

Now the patient wasn’t human at all, but Gomamon, the scalpel embedded in the white fur of his belly. The little Digimon gave a convulsive jerk as the sheet was ripped away. Drops of blood flew as he flopped on the table like a suffocating fish.

“Gomamon!” Jou called, bending over the table in a panic. “Ah! Give me a second!” He reached out with both hands to try and still his partner’s movement. But before he could even get a hold, Gomamon’s body went rigid, and exploded into a cloud of bright red data, like a mist of blood.

Jou’s hands remained suspended over the table, quivering. His mind was racing, trying to get a handle on what had just happened. Had he just killed his Digimon? No – something was wrong. This was like a nightmare. But it felt real enough – he could really feel it when the freezing cold hand grasped shoulder, and the long nails dug painfully into him through the fabric of his scrubs.

He whirled about, and the hand disappeared. One of the other doctors stood behind him. Whereas before they had been about his own height, this one was smaller, shrunk down to child size. And it wasn’t a doctor. The green surgeon’s uniform had been replaced by a white smock like the ones worn by students helping to serve lunch. The cap had changed too, but the mask remained the same. The eyes above it were green and glassy in the dim light, but despite their expressionless deadness there was a disturbing familiarity about them. As Jou watched, a dark stain appeared and began to spread across the surgical mask. With a snapping of its straps the mask fell away from the face, and the sewn-together mouth.

“I-Iori-kun!” Jou cried, recoiling. He had no idea what to do. He couldn’t tell for certain whether the boy was alive or not. Behind him he heard other masks coming off, and as the room suddenly brightened he turned around to see the other known faces of the Chosen Children. In that flash of light he saw the mouths sewn shut and the eyes staring. Then all at once the room was plunged into total darkness, and fabric rustled as the corpses groped blindly towards him.

The next moment he was awake, breathing hard as he lay in his bed. The rustling continued, and for a moment his terror stayed with him. Then he realized that it was only Gomamon squirming around in the sheets, trying to make himself more comfortable. Jou’s heartbeat gradually slowed. He propped himself up on his elbows to look down the bed. Gomamon’s green eyes regarded him.

Jou smiled to let his partner know that everything was alright, though the expression probably resembled a grimace more than anything. He frowned when he lay back down again. If Gomamon was still awake, that meant that not much time had passed since Jou had fallen asleep. He closed his eyes and tried to relax again, but it was hard. The dead faces of his friends from the dream formed themselves in his mind’s eye.

He knew that it might take him a while to get back to sleep, consumed as he was by worry for their safety. But then, sleep wasn’t a very appealing prospect at the moment. He knew that if he did manage to fall asleep again, his first awful dream of the night would not be his last.

***

The people of Japan slept, and dreamed. For about a week now they had become the victims of increasingly disturbing and increasingly vivid dreams. No one suffered from them as much as did the twelve Chosen Children, upon whom so much dark hatred was focused, and whose every nightmare was tailored to them like a systematic attack. But the dreams came to everyone, indiscriminant. Visions of darkness and devastation, a sense of rising tides of oily evil, mental prophecies of horrors to come. Those children who had received their Digimon partners the previous year caught glimpses of terrifying monsters, and Professor Takenouchi awoke after midnight from a dream in which the awful beings from his studies in folklore took physical form before him.

It was the same outside of Japan as well. Over the last week, wherever night came and people slept, the call made itself felt. In Hong Kong, the Hoi brothers had noticed the eerie similarities in their nocturnal impressions, and in Moscow Lara had woke shivering after a dream of black snow. In one of her dreams Catherine Deneuve had imagined something crawling out of the Seine’s black waters, and in New York Gummymon had asked Wallace one morning why he’d been crying in his sleep.

And now, in that other world where there was no day or night but only a darkness eternal, the six captured Chosen Children were being pulled from oblivion into nightmares as vivid and inescapable as their reality.


	85. The Mask

_“‘For Heaven’s sake, doctor, what ails him, to wear a face like that?’” – Robert W. Chambers, “The Mask”_

Yamato dreamed. He found himself walking down a city street that was vaguely familiar. He couldn’t place it in his memory, but the feeling that he had been there before, or someplace similar, stuck with him. It had to be somewhere in Tokyo. The street was crowded with pedestrians, many of them window shopping at the many stores that lined the sidewalks. Was this Shibuya? That had to be it. But how had he gotten there?

He remembered that there had been a fight, somewhere in the city, but everything that came after was a blank. Something was wrong. He had a vague sense of urgency, part of it due to his inability to remember what had happened, but also for some other reason he couldn’t name. He needed to get home. Unfortunately he didn’t visit Shibuya often enough to know exactly where he was. He scanned the storefronts around him, hoping to spot a familiar landmark. He paid no special attention to the people in the street with him – there were no faces that he recognized.

But as he turned his head to the farther side of the street, his eye caught something that made his heart jump. Amongst the shoppers was a face that wasn’t human. It was broad and orange, and its features were only black holes in which flickered a dull red light. It couldn’t have been in sight for more than a second before one of the pedestrians passed in front of it, and in their wake it was gone.

He watched the spot where the vision had been, but it didn’t reappear. Belatedly he had recognized it as a jack-o’-lantern, but jack-o’-lanterns don’t float like disembodied heads or vanish into thin air. After a last look around, Yamato began moving down the street, walking quickly. He had to either find someone he knew or figure out where he was, and he could do neither if he remained here.

He scanned the faces of the other pedestrians as he walked. None of them had noticed anything amiss. Had that grinning pumpkin really been hanging there, or was he seeing things? He’d been under a lot of stress recently, and he had good reason to associate jack-o’-lanterns with Shibuya…but he’d never hallucinated like that before. As the thoughts passed through his head, he was startled again by a person – or something like a person – that suddenly brushed past him, their pumpkin head turning slightly to fix him with its blank grin as it hurried by.

Yamato spun around, but every head in sight was human. He turned around and started walking again, picking up his pace. Real or not, something was happening, and it couldn’t be good. He had to get off the street, and find a place where he could stop to think.

***

Whereas Takeru’s brother had entered his dream standing in a busy street, Takeru found himself seated, and in a deep quiet. Wherever he was, it was dark. He could see no light at all. The atmosphere was near stifling – hot and still. But that wasn’t what disturbed him. He was sitting in a straight-backed chair, with his arms folded uncomfortably behind him. He was prevented from standing by the ropes that bound his lower legs and midsection tightly to the chair. Turning his head about, looking for light, and beginning to breathe faster, he realized that there was also something over his head – his moist breath couldn’t get far from his face.

He paused, listening. There was still no sound, but he sensed that he was not alone in the room, if it was a room. Someone – something – was there with him, and the feeling he had was one of evil. Takeru could recognize evil. He’d seen more of it in his life than anyone his age should, and he could tell that there was something very dark here with him now. But it said nothing. He thought of it watching him, taking measure, and a chill ran through him.

On the verge of panic, he started moving again, and found that he couldn’t move his arms effectively. Apparently they were tied together as well. It wasn’t long before he gave up. Was it getting harder to breathe because of what was covering his head, or was it the fear?

His mind was racing, trying to figure out how he had gotten here, and who was now with him, but it came up blank. He couldn’t remember anything. Clenching his teeth in frustration, he quickly moved on to the next question – should he say something? The answer came almost immediately: yes. The situation couldn’t get much worse, and anything was better than this heavy silence.

“Hello?” Even to himself his voice sounded muffled. “Who are you? What do you want?”

A moment passed, and he thought that they might not answer. But then he heard a slow, deliberate chuckle.

“I thought that you would recognize me by now,” a deep voice said, and he did recognize it. But that was impossible. Vamdemon was dead, dead three times over, and there was no way that he could be here now. “Are you surprised?” the voice continued. “You should know that as long as there is darkness in this world, I am immortal. Haven’t I proven that often enough?”

“No…” Takeru said, mostly to himself. “This isn’t real. This…has to be a dream.”

“Don’t be so sure,” his captor said, though now the voice was different. Where had he heard it before? “Does this feel like a dream? But then, you’ll say, all your dreams have felt like this recently. And then we’re back where we started. Is it real? Is it not? What _is_ real? Hard to be sure these days, isn’t it?”

“Vamdemon was destroyed,” Takeru said, taking some courage in the possibility of escape through waking. “Forever. He can’t come back again.”

“Can’t he?” the voice asked. “Light is easily extinguished, but darkness is eternal, and it takes many forms. Take me, for example. I can be anything! Anything I want to be.”

And then, suddenly, another voice: “Don’t you believe me, Takeru-kun?”

For an instant Takeru was speechless, as a mix of emotions rushed into his head.

“H-Hikari-chan?”

The unknown voice returned, cackling. “No, just me! I can use any voice, and any shape! If you could have seen me just then, you would have seen her. I could have demonstrated for you all the interesting things we might yet do to her. But I’m keeping you blind a little longer. You’re a special someone’s special surprise.”

As the unknown person stopped talking, Takeru tried to process this new information. Did the speaker mean to say he had Hikari as well? No, that would also be a lie. This was a dream. If something had happened to Hikari or anyone else, he would remember it. Wouldn’t he? He tried to recall his last waking memory, and couldn’t. What was _wrong_ with him?

“Focus, Takaishi-kun, if you can,” the voice said, chuckling. “The curtain is about to rise.”

***

Yamato passed hurriedly by the storefronts, but occasionally he noticed what strange things they were selling. A store full of masks of all kinds, a store packed with large old books… Once he passed a place whose entire inventory looked to be deadly weapons, from swords to guns. He had gaped at it for a few moments, but moved on when he noticed that the clerk was staring at him with empty, unfocused eyes. One thing it made him sure of. This was not Shibuya. It was probably a dream, and he knew that any moment now it would become a nightmare.

He wanted to wake up. Whatever this dream had in store for him, he didn’t feel like facing it. He’d had enough of dreams lately. The events of the evening were beginning to come back to him, reminding him that a nightmarish but very real situation awaited him when he awoke. He didn’t have time for horror movie scares while his brother and friends were in danger. That thought brought on a wave of guilt. Here he was sleeping when he should be doing something – anything – to find Takeru and the others.

Suddenly he stopped. There had been a change in the atmosphere. He noticed that the crowds and the strange shops had all vanished. He was still on a street – not the one he had been in, but one that he recognized. Turning to his left, he saw a familiar storefront. He, Takeru, and Gabumon had been there four years ago, when they interrupted Pumpmon and Gotsumon’s impromptu fashion show. For the most part it was the same as it had always been, but there were a number of objects out of place.

In the center of the space was a chair with a person seated in it, and someone else standing behind it. Yamato stopped cold, unsure of what to expect. The person in the chair was actually tied to it. They looked young, but he couldn’t determine their gender, much less their identity, because the head was fully covered by what looked like a jack-o’-lantern Halloween mask – one without any visible holes to allow for sight or ventilation.

The other person was a tall man, not wearing a mask, but with his features shrouded in unnaturally heavy shadow. Yamato couldn’t immediately recall where he had seen him before. Then the memory of a previous dream returned to him, and he knew he was looking at whatever had masqueraded as his brother in his nightmare of the subterranean chasm.

Yamato stood still, wondering what the being on the other side of the glass would do. He knew that the shadowy man saw him. As in that other dream he could see the figure’s eyes glimmering in the darkness, and they were fixed on him. The Dark Man smiled, his teeth matching the brightness of his eyes.

“Glad you could make it, Ishida-kun.”

In spite of the glass between them, Yamato heard the voice with perfect clarity. Under the mask, Takeru also heard what the Dark Man said, and strained his ears. Was Yamato here?

“What do you want?” Yamato asked, “I don’t have time for your games.”

“Nii-san?” Takeru asked. The thought occurred to him that it might be a repeat of the trick with Hikari’s voice, and that he might be doing nothing more than playing his part in some kind of demented puppet show. As it turned out, it didn’t matter. He spoke the words, but no sound left his throat. He repeated his question, trying to speak louder, almost shouting, but again heard nothing. He cursed in frustration, but it was no use. He’d been rendered mute.

“You never were one to play around, were you?” the Dark Man was saying.

“You don’t know me,” Yamato said. “Who is that in the mask?”

“But I do know you,” the Dark Man said. “I know you had to say an abrupt goodbye in Shibuya on August 2, 1999. Halloween came early that year, didn’t it? Now it’s come early again, and it may never leave.”

Yamato said nothing, only stared at the other with hate in his eyes.

“As for who this is… don’t you have a guess? You’re not stupid. Didn’t a few things turn up missing recently?”

“Take off the mask,” Yamato said quietly.

“Why?” asked the Dark Man. “Isn’t it fitting, after all these years – all the fear you’ve felt on his account? _I_ think it fits him _perfectly._ ”

The Dark Man grabbed the bound figure’s head, pressing against the mask. Takeru twisted and squirmed about as best he could, trying to break the suffocating hold, but failed.

“Stop that!” Yamato shouted. “Leave him alone!”

“Oh, this is nothing,” the Dark Man said. “Wait until he wakes up!”

Yamato started forward. As far as his eyes and ears could detect, there was no glass in the storefront separating him from his brother and their tormenter. But when he tried to jump up to where the chair was, he smacked into some kind of barrier, and a shock from it caused him to rebound and land painfully on his back in the street.

The Dark Man leered at him, tearing the Halloween mask away with one hand and grabbing a fistful of Takeru’s hair with the other. “Say goodbye, you two.”

For a moment the brothers looked at each other, fear and desperation showing in their faces. Then the floor seemed to erupt beneath Takeru’s chair. A cloud of black bats spilled out and upward, and he vanished in their midst. When they dispersed, Yamato saw that the chair was empty.

“Takeru!”

Yamato scrambled to his feet.

“Where is he!?”

“If you really want to know,” the Dark Man answered, “All you have to do is stop fighting back!” He threw back his head and laughed, and on cue the madly fluttering bats surged forward in a wave, shattering the window and engulfing Yamato where he stood.

He woke thrashing in his bed, quickly realizing that there were no longer any bats to lash out at. Gabumon, who shared the bed with him, was also awake, and asking what was the matter. Yamato didn’t answer. He drove his fist into his pillow, and then again.

“Damn it! Takeru… Hang on…”

***

_You had to say an abrupt goodbye._

Takeru hovered in the state of uneasy rest that lies between dreaming and waking, with the Dark Man’s words sliding around in his head. He saw something with his mind’s eye – not really a dream, but a few scattered images. No… Memories. There was a bright explosion in the night sky. Angemon was falling, becoming Patamon. Patamon was in Takeru’s arms. He had evolved again, like in the fight with Devimon. Was he…?

Takeru knew what the next image should be: Patamon speaking to him, assuring him that this time it was alright. But the image that came was very different. Patamon burst into particles and dissolved into nothingness, leaving Takeru’s hands empty.

He awoke with a start, memories of what had happened rushing back – the desert, AncientSphinxmon, and that final, final attack. He was lying on a stone floor in the dark. His hands were not in front of him but behind him, the wrists encircled by cold metal. But he took no stock of his situation. Instead he was crying, calling for Patamon. But Patamon was dead.


	86. On the Margins

_“Apropos of sleep, that sinister adventure of all our nights, we may say that men go to bed daily with an audacity that would be incomprehensible if we did not know that it is the result of ignorance of the danger.” – Charles Baudelaire, as quoted by H. P. Lovecraft_

Hiraga Ayaki awoke with a feeling that something was wrong. He distinctly remembered having gone to bed, but now he was seated upright in a chair drawn up to a table. Looking around, it only took him a moment to see that he was not in his temporary apartment, or in any other place he recognized. The room was nondescript in the extreme, with the undecorated floor, walls, and ceiling apparently made of the same bland gray material.

He could see everything perfectly, but he remained uneasy. It didn’t take long for him to identify what was odd – the room had no windows, and contained no artificial light source. He could see, but there was no reason why he should be able to. Opposite from where he sat was an empty chair, and in the wall behind it a door. It looked uncomfortably like an interrogation chamber, something he was proud not to have had any previous experience with. As far as he could tell, he had none of his usual weapons on him, and a quick search for them confirmed the fact.

He stood up, intending to try the door, but at the same moment it opened from the other side, and Hiraga saw Sato Katsu enter, stepping out of darkness. Hiraga paused, surprised and wary. He hadn’t met with his current employer in person for over a week, and that had been under circumstances much less strange.

“Sit down, Hiraga-san. I wanted to get back in touch with you, and this was the most convenient way to do it.”

“Where am I?” Hiraga asked, remaining standing.

“Dreaming,” Sato answered dismissively.

“But I’m not…” Hiraga began, but then fell silent as he thought about the strangeness of his surroundings. It didn’t feel like a dream. But could a place like this exist in a real world?

“Yes, you’re dreaming,” Sato said. “Rather, you’re in a state very much like dreaming, which I’ve induced remotely so as to update you on the situation. Now sit down. We’ll have our talk and can then get back to what we were doing.”

Slowly, Hiraga took a seat, and Sato sat down in the chair across the table.

“So,” Sato said. “You’ve decided to remove yourself from our headquarters.”

“How—”

“A function of this type of dream. Through the power that makes it possible, I am able to know the mind of anyone present.”

Hiraga was silent a moment. “I am dreaming,” he said eventually, slowly shaking his head.

“I’m surprised that you still have a capacity for doubt after all that you’ve seen recently. Now, if you will please stop interrupting, we can get this over with.”

Hiraga said nothing, still unsure of himself, and Sato continued.

“I am no longer in the Digital World, and you will not be able to contact me there anymore. We are working to set up a link between the human world headquarters and the place where I am now, but it may take some time. We have six of the children taken into custody. Yes, that’s why they weren’t present tonight. I know that Lilithmon is dead. Do you know where BlackTailmon is?”

“Black… No, I don’t.”

“Then I want you to find her. The remaining children must not catch her, lest she give anything away regarding our organization. That is your current goal. After that you can monitor the remaining children, as before. We have another Digimon in the human world as well, but you don’t need to worry about that. Now we’re done. Get back to sleep. You’ll remember our talk in the morning.”

Sato stood up to go.

“By the way,” he added. “I don’t mind you hiding in your apartment, but I want you back at the base when there’s work to be done. Don’t disappear just yet. You won’t like it when we find you.”

Before Hiraga could think of a way to respond, Sato reopened the door and walked back out of the room. As he did so, the darkness beyond the doorway entered in his place, blotting out the room and deadening Hiraga’s senses. From then until he woke the next morning, he was dead to the world.

***

The beach was as she had always imagined it. A few years ago she had gone on a vacation in Hawaii, but even its white beaches had been in the shadow of hotel buildings, and swarming with her fellow tourists, with her parents the only people among them that she knew. This beach was untouched. No buildings could be seen, just the shining yellow sand stretching infinitely far in either direction, and the emerald trees beyond it. There was no manufactured thing but what they had with them, and no sign that any human being had ever set foot on that fantastic shore.

The sea was calm, but Mimi felt the breeze gliding over her shoulders, adding a pleasurable coolness to the inviting warmth of the atmosphere. The ship lazily approached the beach. Soon she would be walking on it. She turned to Michael, who stood beside her, and smiled.

“We should tell Miyako-san and the others that we’re almost there,” Michael said, smiling back at her.

Mimi’s smile vanished.

“What’s wrong?” Michael asked, raising his eyebrows.

But she didn’t know how to answer, because she didn’t _know_ what was wrong. For some reason the mention of Miyako was like a sudden splash of ice water…but she couldn’t put her finger on why. She smiled again, a little nervously.

“No, nothing,” she said. “I’ll go get them.”

There was a swimming pool set into a lower deck. Palmon could be seen reclining in one of the chairs at its edge, taking in the sun, while Betamon sat atop the steps leading down into the shallow end of the pool, cooling himself in the water. Mimi saw them as she turned away from Michael, and had to smile.

She knew that the other Chosen Children were inside the ship. She couldn’t understand why. The weather was as gorgeous as the beach, and there was no reason not to be enjoying the day. It was really weird that she and Michael were the only two people on the deck. Not that she didn’t like just hanging out with Michael, but…

As she made her way to the nearest door, her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of a dark cloud on the horizon, over the open ocean. Mimi frowned. Like the beach, the cloud stretched wide in both directions. There was something strange about it. Where the ship and the beach was, the sun shone down, unobstructed by even a wisp of white cloud. A picnic on the beach would not be so fun with that shadow lurking out on the water. But the cloud did more than ruin the perfection of the day. It made her uneasy.

Pulling her gaze away from it, she walked into the lounge, a little surprised not to see anyone sitting in any of the chairs. At one side of the room was a bar with some snacks set out atop it, but all the stools were unoccupied. Was everyone in their cabins? She couldn’t hear any sounds of talking or laughing, even when she stood at the top of the stairs leading below deck.

“Miyako-chan? Daisuke-kun?”

Her calls were met with silence. Hesitating, she told herself that they must be in some other part of the ship. If someone had heard her, someone would have answered. Wouldn’t they? She shook her head as if to clear it. The shadowy clouds must have unnerved her more than she had thought. Looking down the stairs again, she felt something like dread coming over her. She couldn’t hear anything, but it did seem as though a strange smell was rising from below. A damp, heavy scent, as though seawater had somehow found its way into the belly of the ship.

“Mimi-san?”

The voice made her jump, even as she recognized it as Michael’s. She thought she detected a note of concern in his call, and quickly left the stairs to see what might be the matter, happy for an excuse to get back outside. On the deck it was not as warm as she had remembered it being. The chill from inside the ship had stuck with her. She could see Michael standing in front of her, near the railing overlooking the lower deck. Instead of looking at her, his gaze was fixed on the ocean, and turning to her left she could see why.

The dark clouds that had hung on the horizon when she entered the ship had drawn suddenly closer. Now they loomed so near that the ship was almost in their shadow. Beneath them the color of the blue water and sky had been perverted into a dirty gray, and the pleasant breeze had been replaced with a wet spray that carried with it the same unwholesome scent that Mimi had smelled rising from below deck.

“What – What is it?” she asked, not really expecting Michael to know the answer. The suddenness of the change had terrified her into demanding an explanation.

“Mimi-san! I think we—”

He was interrupted as the ship gave a sudden lurch in the motionless sea, causing it to pitch towards the beach, and sending both Mimi and Michael tumbling across the deck. The ship continued to rock back and forth, though with less violence. Mimi managed to get back on her feet just long enough to stumble over to the railing overlooking the lower deck. She grasped it, managed to keep her momentum from throwing her over, and clung there. Michael was not far from her, also hanging onto the rail. He must have hurt himself somehow – there was blood trailing down his forehead, and he looked stunned.

She called his name, and he looked in her direction, but before she could recover and go to him, the ship gave another lurch. Michael lost his grip and slid almost to the far rail, the one nearest the beach. Mimi wanted to help him, but with the ship under this mysterious assault it was impossible. She cast a wild glance through the rails, to the lower deck where she had seen Palmon and Betamon earlier.

She was able to spot them immediately, a pair of bright green shapes in the drab, ever-darkening day. Palmon had one arm’s worth of vines twined about the ship’s railing, while with the others she was holding onto Betamon, which had kept him from being thrown off the deck. Despite the violence of the ship’s motion, there was very little sound either from the ship or from the water, and Mimi could hear Betamon shouting for his partner.

“Michael! I need to evolve!”

Palmon raised her head at the other Digimon’s exclamation, and her eyes seemed to find Mimi on the upper deck.

“Mimi!”

Mimi understood. Letting go of the railing with one hand, she reached for her Digivice. Togemon wouldn’t be much use, but if Palmon could Super Evolve she might be able to move the others one by one to the safety of the beach. Mimi unclipped the Digivice from her skirt. As she did so, a shadow fell over the deck. From her left, the direction of the open ocean, there was a sudden blast of cold wind and spray.

Mimi screamed as the ship rocked again, sending her Digivice clattering across the deck – not because of the unexpected wind, but because she had heard a sound that seemed to originate inside her head – a vicious roaring hiss that set her every nerve tingling. She recovered quickly, but not nearly quickly enough to regain the Digivice.

She looked to her right, the direction in which it had gone flying, and saw Michael again. He was at the side rail, holding on with one hand, and in the other…he had her Digivice. His eyes met hers, and his expression said that he could barely believe what he’d managed to do. “Mimi-san!” he called, holding it out in her direction. She couldn’t reach it from there, of course, but in spite of that, in spite of the darkness, and the line of blood on Michael’s face, she had to smile.

“Mic—” she began, but her cry of gratitude changed to a wail of horror as something black and indistinct rose up over the edge of the deck, fastened itself on Michael’s ankle, and wrenched him between the rails in one rapid, bone-breaking motion. Then he was gone. Beyond the railing Mimi could see the beach and its trees – her ideal – disintegrate into black ash. The stench from before was rising all around her, and she had no one and nowhere to turn to.

There came an appalling crash as the ship burst open from within, and a flood of dark shapes emerged from it. They swarmed so thick that she couldn’t tell them apart, but she thought she glimpsed the semblances of all the frightful and evil Digimon from her past, and other forms more horrific. Somehow, with a sight that was not eyesight, she saw them all at once, in every direction. She saw her battered, horrified friends caught up in the horde’s clutches, and Palmon and Betamon consumed by darkness and shredded into data.

Then she was again aware of her body, as the talons and tentacles and cold fingers latched onto her, and she was dragged down, beneath the surface of the black water, and into a suffocating, all-encompassing darkness.


	87. Questions

_“I have seen him once when I went down to play again in the garden of my childhood because of certain memories. And it was towards evening and the light was pale, and I saw Time standing over the little gate, pale like the light, and he stood between me and that garden and had stolen my memories because he was mightier than I.” – Lord Dunsany, “In the Land of Time”_

Koshiro had been the last of the Chosen Children to fall asleep that night. He had sat at his computer for well over an hour – tired, but unwilling to rest before he had given the situation careful thought. Like the others, he had been caught up in hoping that the encounter with Lilithmon would be the end of their suspense regarding the state of the younger Chosen. But now that the battle was over, and the shock of their disappearance had worn off, he was once again in a position to think carefully about the mysteries facing him.

The police had found nothing out of order at the building which the Chosen Children had told them about. Koshiro didn’t know how that was possible, but according to what information he could find it was true. That his missing friends hadn’t been found didn’t surprise him as much. He and the others had been too blinded by their hopes to realize that the enemy would never intentionally leave them a clue as to where the others were being held. It was a sickening realization – he could understand why he had resisted its logicality earlier.

Takeru and the rest were not in the Digital World. That meant that they were either in the human world, in which case it was still possible to find them, or they were in that World of Darkness, in which case there was no known way for their elders to reach them. For now, Koshiro would have to think as if they were in his world. Together, he and Gennai could use their skills to try and locate them – probably more effectively than law enforcement could, but it would be a monumental task.

Then there was what needed to be done about the remaining threats in the real world. The monster that attacked Ugaki Chiho was still at large. It had struck tonight already, according to police reports. Its destruction was another priority. Koshiro was still trying to work out a pattern to the assaults, trying to figure out where the thing would attack next. If there had been no change in the situation by tomorrow night, the Chosen Children could split up and patrol likely areas of the city, and someone could be stationed near the address where Lilithmon had been defeated.

But besides all of these practical questions, there were others that demanded answers. The evidence, particularly the photographs which he and the others had found in the subbasement, pointed towards a network of human conspirators aiding the evil Digimon. But who, and why? Before now, the only humans believed to have associated much with Digimon were Chosen Children and their families, but that didn’t seem to be the case here. It was different from the Kaiser situation. How did all this fit together?

There were too many unknowns. Normally that didn’t bother Koshiro, who was always working steadily towards answering his many questions, but these matters were pressing, and these mysteries were deadly problems, not abstract research projects. He wanted to talk to Gennai. He turned around in his chair and looked at the room behind him. Tentomon was already soundly asleep. It reminded Koshiro how tired he himself was. He wondered if Gennai ever slept; the question had never occurred to him before.

Perhaps he should wait until morning to contact Gennai. It was getting late, and he was exhausted. A sleep troubled by the dreams was better than no sleep at all. At least, that was the case from a physical perspective.

***

Ken could feel himself sinking. All around him was darkness. By some extremely faint luminescence he was able to see huge, motionless shapes hanging over him like jagged mountaintops. There was a soft humming in his ears, but no real sound. Where was he? When was he? There had been a battle…in the desert. He and Wormmon had been fighting…something huge…immensely powerful…

Wormmon! Where was Wormmon? Ken kicked with his legs and swung his arms, managing to bring himself upright, or what he assumed to be upright. He was still slowly sinking, but now in the direction of his feet instead of his back. He looked around, trying to spot anything that might be his partner, but the silence remained unbroken, and he remained the only moving object.

“Wormmon!”

His voice echoed briefly, then sank into a dead quiet. He was about to call again when first one and then both of his feet touched down gently on a solid surface. Looking down, he saw light pulse through the floor, making it visible for the first time, and illuminating also some of the objects that had loomed over him since his arrival in this alien place. What he seemed to be standing on – in fact, what everything in this place seemed to be – was a massive crystal formation.

That didn’t help him to determine how he had gotten here, or where his partner was. And wasn’t there someone else, or other people that had been with them? He couldn’t remember how that dim battle had ended. It occurred to him that he might be dead.

***

Koshiro came back to his senses suddenly; he must have been dozing. Gennai had just asked him a question.

“I’m sorry, Gennai-san,” he said. “I didn’t hear you.”

“What did you want to talk to me about?” Gennai answered, seated across from his visitor at a low table. Koshiro tried to remember, embarrassed. Not only had he apparently fallen asleep; he couldn’t recall what had brought him to the Digital World in the first place.

“I…had some questions,” he said.

“I’ll answer them if I can,” Gennai told him.

Koshiro thought back, but his mind had been emptied of what had happened to the younger Chosen Children, and the nightmares, and the battles he and his friends had fought so recently in Tokyo.

“It wasn’t anything important, really,” he said, stalling. Something was nagging at the back of his mind, something that _felt_ important, but he couldn’t quite uncover it. What was wrong with him? The way Gennai was looking at him didn’t help. The Agent’s expression had a grim cast, and looked more disappointed than expectant. Koshiro was about to excuse himself on the grounds that he didn’t feel well, which wasn’t far from the truth. But then Gennai started speaking.

“That’s always been a problem,” Gennai said. “It’s good that you ask questions, Koshiro, but at times you’ve been focused on asking the wrong ones. Unfortunately, that becomes a very big problem, since the other Chosen Children don’t ask any questions.”

“I don’t understand, Gennai-san,” Koshiro said. His unease was growing.

“That bothers you, doesn’t it?” Gennai asked. “Anytime that you can’t understand something? Have you ever learned something that you wished you had not? The truth can be painful sometimes, or frightening.”

“I can’t…think of anything like that,” Koshiro said, hesitantly, wondering why the conversation had gone so far off course.

“The Digimon Kaiser is one example,” Gennai said. “When Ken was forced to confront the true meaning of his actions, it nearly destroyed him.”

Gennai stood up, turned away from Koshiro, and looked out the transparent doors at the lakebed which served as his garden. There was little to be seen. It was apparently night, and the yard was invisible in the dark. That fact registered for the first time, and Koshiro wondered why he hadn’t come during the daytime.

“You still haven’t reminded him yet, have you?” Gennai continued. “About Ryo, and Millenniumon?”

“No,” Koshiro said. Maybe the question should have surprised him, but it seemed strangely natural. It occurred to him that just recently he had been feeling guilty about never explaining to Ken what had happened. Something had reminded him of Ryo, but, like before, he was unable to remember what it was. “He’s never asked.”

Gennai turned back to his guest and smiled, a little sadly. “We’re very selfish, aren’t we?”

“Selfish, Gennai-san?”

“I’ve been keeping the same secrets that you have, after all. And I have some secrets all my own. That’s what I mean about asking the right questions. Think about it. Didn’t the Four Holy Beasts and I have to know who the Digimon Kaiser was from the beginning? And I told you how I kept Tailmon’s Holy Ring until BelialVamdemon was destroyed. I’ve always waited until the last moment to tell the Chosen Children what I knew. And there’s more.”

Gennai walked back towards the table. Koshiro rose up on one knee in preparation for standing. He watched Gennai’s face carefully, wondering where all this was going.

“I’m glad you came tonight, Koshiro,” Gennai said. “I wanted to tell you about the rest, before—” Without warning, Gennai’s face contorted with pain. He leaned forward, but managed not to collapse.

“Gennai-san!”

Koshiro was on his feet now, alarmed. Gennai staggered forward, putting a hand on Koshiro’s shoulder to steady himself.

“It’s too late,” Gennai said through gritted teeth. “You asked me about it once, but I didn’t know the truth until it was too late. Piemon’s black ball…”

“What’s wrong?” Koshiro asked. He remembered the vision he had seen of the old castle, when Gennai and Piemon had fought for the Crests. The Dark Master had embedded something in Gennai, but what did that…?

“I’m sorry, Koshiro,” Gennai said, squeezing his eyes shut. His face had gone very pale, almost a dead white. “I can’t…” Suddenly the eyes popped open again, and Koshiro saw that there was something wrong with them. Gennai’s blue eyes were yellow. Not merely jaundiced, but a total change of color.

“Gennai…san…”

“But it is time you learned,” Gennai said. There was blood on his lips as he moved them, seeping out of the skin. “That was what you’ve always wanted, right?”

Koshiro pulled back in fear, but the hand on his shoulder gripped him, digging the lengthening nails in. He remembered now what he had come to talk about.

“You’ll know the truth soon,” Gennai said, as his hair grew and reddened, tangling itself into crazy patterns. “The Chosen Children will all know the truth,” he continued, and it was as if two voices were speaking from the same throat. “And they will despair.”

Koshiro wrenched out of the grip of the monstrosity his friend had become, staggering backwards as the transformation continued. His back came up against a shoji, and in his hurry to get away he crashed right through the wooden frame and the paper, and lost his footing when the floor ended beneath him.

He fell back off the house’s porch, into the grass of the yard. The Gennai-thing sprang forward, so that it stood silhouetted in the light of the hole Koshiro had made in the wall.

“We’ll teach you, Chosen Children!” it called out into the dark. “The world is not what you think it is!” The thing doubled over, and Koshiro saw in a daze that its back was bulging. With the sound of ripping fabric, writhing feelers tore their way out of what had once been Gennai, lashing out at Koshiro where he lay. Like so many envenomed whips they stung him, tearing at his torso, piercing his face, worming their way into his brain where they burned like lit matches.

“Koshiro-han!”

Koshiro lurched up in his bed. Tentomon was beside him, prodding him.

“Koshiro-han, you were dreaming.”

Quickly, Koshiro raised his hands to inspect his face and chest. He was unharmed.

“Th-thank you, Tentomon,” he said. “I’m fine now.” He looked over his shoulder, to where his computer sat on his desk. Slowly he managed to bring his breathing under control and his thoughts to order. He wasn’t sure what the dream had meant, if it was supposed to mean anything, but he knew that something needed to be sorted out. _Tomorrow,_ he thought, _I’ll talk to Gennai-san._

***

Ken turned about, taking in his surroundings. Now that his descent had stopped he seemed to be able to move normally. Strange as this place was, it didn’t feel unreal, or different from the rest of life.

“Worm…mon?” Ken asked the emptiness. The height of the crystal platform on which he stood was impossible to judge; its translucent depths might have gone on forever beneath him. Out of it, mostly at the edges, grew peaks and obelisks of milky crystal, some of them rising to towering heights. Here and there the plateau’s regularity was broken by smaller formations, only a few feet high. Everything beyond the platform was a deep blue darkness, without horizon.

He walked towards the edge of the plateau, curious as to what could be seen from there, when he was stopped by a sudden change in the quality of one of the small crystal formations in his path. Without a sound, it had become transparent instead of translucent, and encased within it he could see the shape of his partner.

“Wormmon!” Ken dropped to his knees and pressed both hands against the crystal’s surface, but the Digimon remained unmoving. In another moment the image had faded, the light ebbed away, and there was only a dark crystal before him. For the first time he noticed that it was shaped uncomfortably like a tombstone. “Wormmon… Where are you?” His heartbeat was getting faster. “What happened to you?”

Ken turned away from the crystal, checking his surroundings again, but he was still alone. He did notice, however, that one of the other smaller crystals, one not much taller than he was, was glowing. As he turned his gaze on it, it also became limpid, and Osamu was staring at him from inside, looking the same as he must have on the day when the photo on Ken’s desk had been taken.

Despite knowing that it wasn’t really his brother, Ken instinctively stepped towards the vision, but as he approached the image changed and he saw himself there in the crystal – Ken as he had been three years ago. He stopped in confusion, and the image faded as the light left the crystal.

_Why?_ he asked himself. _Why show me my younger self?_ And another voice whispered, _Because this is a graveyard, and you’re dead too._

Light flashed up one of the monstrous crystals in the distance, and the magnified form of the Digimon Kaiser appeared in it, whip raised, teeth exposed in a cruel smile. Ken flinched and turned away. He needed to find Wormmon – the real, warm, living Wormmon – and get out of this place. He could see another of the smaller crystals transparent, and in it a person he didn’t recognize: a short old man, bald except for a white mustache and topknot. Ken resisted the urge to pause and wonder what it meant. He had never seen that person before…had he? As the thought crossed his mind, the crystal went dark, and the silence of the place was broken as a large crack appeared in it.

Light pulsed in the distance, and one of the largest crystals revealed its image, a huge full-body portrait of a boy about Ken’s age. His features, with his brown hair and blue eyes, was unremarkable, but the sight of him froze Ken in his tracks. His eyes went wide and his mouth opened.

“I know you!” he said. “Who…Who are you!?”

The picture didn’t answer. It began to dim, and a new shape took its place. At first Ken thought it was Chimairamon, but the outlines became clearer and he saw that it was something different, something worse. A shape he only remembered seeing in nightmares.

With an apocalyptic crash, the massive crystal shattered, spraying shards in all directions. Ken raised an arm to protect himself and staggered backward. Everywhere around him, massive cracks were working their way across the darkening crystal landscape, but before the light failed entirely Ken detected movement below him, a darker shape gliding through the solid floor on which he stood.

As the plateau crumbled into a billion gemstones, and Ken felt himself falling, he called out his partner’s name. It was a last appeal to whatever might be good in all that darkness, but even as he screamed he knew in his heart that there would be no answer.


	88. Web

_“I struggled and turned but the web grew tighter; it was over us – all around us, drawing, pressing us into each other’s arms until we lay side by side, bound hand and body and foot, palpitating, panting like a pair of netted pigeons.” – Robert W. Chambers, “The Maker of Moons”_

Sora had been walking a long time now. She didn’t know she was dreaming. The thick clouds above had grown darker the farther down the path she went, but there was no rain yet. The atmosphere was heavy and humid; by this point, rain would almost have been a relief. Sora was supposed to meet Piyomon here, but her partner was nowhere to be seen. They could have chosen a more pleasant place to rendezvous. Besides the wide, empty dirt path, the locale was little better than a jungle. Dense, broad-leaved trees lined the path on either side, with equally dense shadows huddling beneath them.

Sora was tiring. Athletic though she was, the combination of the long walk and the oppressive atmosphere had begun to tell on her. Her head drooped, and her eyes watched the dirt of the path as she walked it. If it did happen to rain, the path would probably turn to mud, which wouldn’t be very good for her shoes. She smiled a little at the thought. Back when she had first come to the Digital World, such a little thing would never have bothered her. At some point, her conscious attempt at being more feminine had become automatic. She wondered whether that was a good thing. She was a lot different from what she had been.

She wondered, not for the first time, if Yamato cared much whether she was feminine or not. Maybe it was a dumb thing to wonder about. Maybe she should ask him outright. But no, she knew she wouldn’t. It occurred to her that she had been thinking a lot about their relationship recently, for some reason. _Well, that isn’t too weird, is it?_ she thought. _To think about the person you’re dating?_ But she wasn’t thinking about Yamato himself so much as the relationship, that nebulous concept that bound him to her.

And whenever she thought about that, she had to think about Taichi, whether she wanted to or not. Over half a year had passed since she began dating Yamato, and the guilt she felt over her choice still hadn’t entirely disappeared. She had expected to get over it quickly. After all, what did she have to feel guilty about? At times she had looked at Taichi in a romantic light, and she knew that he had thought about her that way as well. But he had always been her best friend, and that had tempered her feelings somewhat.

They were still friends, and she didn’t owe him anything other than that friendship. She remembered how he had risked his life in Nanomon’s pyramid to find her, but did that obligate her to him? Every one of Chosen Children had risked his or her life on that adventure. And Yamato had saved her too, hadn’t he? Taichi had come for her in the pyramid, but it had been Yamato, when she had sunk into her own despair, that had pulled her out of the dark.

The first raindrop fell, solitary but fat, and landed on her hair, pulling her out of her reverie. She looked up again to see if more would follow, and in doing so she noticed something strange. Above her, a little farther down the path, something was stretched from one wall of trees to the other. At first glance, it looked like a tennis net.

She slowed her pace as she got closer to it. She could see now that it was nothing as mundane as a tennis net. If anything, it bore an unsettling resemblance to a monstrous spider web. A few more steps, and Sora was certain that that was exactly what it was. It hung motionless in the windless air, an ugly gray network of ropey threads, perfectly positioned to catch anything that happened to be flying through – insects, birds…

Sora looked into the shade of the trees, more searchingly and nervously than before. Not just any spider could spin a web like that. She remembered that one of the most hideous Digimon they had encountered on the 1999 adventure was Dokugumon, the venomous, bloated guardian of the catacombs beneath Vamdemon’s castle. This was just the kind of web such a monster might construct, and she did not want to meet it alone on this path. She couldn’t see the web’s weaver lurking in the trees, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t there, concealed in the darkness.

Could it be away for some reason? Still keeping an eye on the tree line, Sora resumed her walk forward, hoping to pass under the thing and get away down the path without being detected. More raindrops were beginning to fall, but Sora, intent on possible danger, hardly noticed. She did lift her eyes as she walked under the web – it was obviously unoccupied, but she still imagined something silently descending upon her while she wasn’t looking.

Then she was on the other side of it. Her pace had begun to pick up again. She wanted to put as much distance between her and the danger point as possible, though she knew that she would take many a backwards glance in the process. The path through the trees was no longer simply uncomfortable; it had become menacing.

She had left the web a few meters behind her when she heard her name called from that direction. It was Piyomon’s voice. When Sora turned around it was just in time to see her partner, who had been flapping through the air to meet her, notice the trap stretched in her way. Piyomon tried to reverse her momentum, but she had seen the web too late to avoid running right into it. The adhesive strands bulged outward at first, but then snapped back into position, leaving Piyomon spread-eagle, pulling at the webbing but unable to break free of it.

“Piyomon!” Sora called. She was running back towards the web, unsure of how to help her partner but determined to do so, when a new movement among the treetops stopped her short with horror. It came scuttling out of the leaves, moving quickly and surely along the web on its six hind legs. It wasn’t a fully grown Dokugumon – it was one of the spider Digimon’s innumerable children – but it was still as large as or larger than Piyomon.

Before Sora could think of anything to do the thing had reached Piyomon. Without hesitation it straddled one arrested wing and bent its head towards the bird Digimon. Sora couldn’t see what was happening from that angle, but she heard her partner scream, and saw the blood spilling to the ground, its sound distinct from the patter of the raindrops.

“Piyomon!” Sora cried again. She was making to move forward in an effort to rescue her partner, but was again stopped in her tracks as the leaves of the trees and the grasses at their base began to rustle loudly. The KoDokugumon emerged from the shadows in a mass. Some made their way down the tree trunks, while others simply dropped to the forest floor with soft thuds. Soon a small army of them had gathered on the path, each monster with its eight beady eyes locked on Sora.

Sora knew the danger she was in, but still her gaze found her wounded partner. She made no move to retreat, though dozens of the spider monsters stood between her and the web in which Piyomon was caught. As she hesitated, Piyomon’s closed lids flickered open.

“Run, Sora,” was all she said. Then her eyes closed again, and she evaporated into data.

Sora’s head shook slowly back and forth in disbelief. Through rapidly watering eyes she saw the thing that had killed her partner jump from the web to the rain-spattered dirt of the path, turning to face her like the others of its kind. The blue beads of their eyes began to vibrate in their heads, and a chittering sound arose, as if they were laughing at her pain. But she knew that it was really a sound of excited anticipation. They were hungry.

Finally, she turned and ran, and she could hear them following behind her. The rain was coming down harder than it had been, and her white shoes made splashing sounds in the mud. She had no idea where she was going, or how long she would be able to run for. She could see through her tears that the path was curving.

In another minute she could see that it was not merely curving. It was ending, growing narrower and trailing off into the jungle. The spiders were still behind her. She could sense them, and saw them as she looked back over her shoulder. She had no hope of losing these creatures of darkness in the trees, but there was nowhere else for her to go, and she plunged into the forest without hesitating.

Needing to dodge between trees, which was no easy task in the dark, she could no longer run at top speed. The KoDokugumon were in those shadows with her. She heard the rustling of their bodies, though she couldn’t determine how close behind her they were, or whether they were gaining. Almost all of her attention was turned ahead of her.

Suddenly she passed through something – a tickling sensation that clung tenaciously to her face and hair. In a panic, she recognized it for what it was. She tried to clear it off of her with wild motions of her hands, but it was no use, and she gave up almost immediately, knowing that everything depended on her maintaining speed. The disgusting tickle of the web stuck with her as she ran, a constant reminder that there might be other webs in this jungle, perhaps intended for much bigger prey. If one was in her path, would she be able to avoid it in time? Or, like poor Piyomon, would she…

Her thoughts were interrupted as the trees unexpectedly thinned, and there was a hint of lightness in the air as rifts in the leaves revealed the cloudy skies and let down the fat raindrops. Trees dotted what would otherwise have been a wide clearing. She could now see her surroundings more plainly, but what she saw horrified her. On every hand were nightmarish webs, stretched from tree to tree both vertically and horizontally, their dust-gray strands thick as ropes. Worse, two of the webs were occupied, but not by spiders.

A pair of human figures hung suspended in the webbing, wrapped up from chest to ankle like doomed insects. They were Yamato and Taichi. Yamato was looking at her. She knew that he could see her, because his head had turned slightly when she made her appearance, but he said nothing. Taichi was mute as well. He wasn’t looking at her, instead staring vacantly at nothing in particular. He was very, very pale.

Sora came forward, aware that the KoDokugumon were still somewhere behind her, but more concerned now with helping her friends. _Boyfriends,_ she thought, with a sudden flash of embarrassment. Yamato’s mouth was moving, but she didn’t hear him speaking. He looked as scared as she felt, and she wondered if fear had taken his voice. It wasn’t until he began frantically shaking his head that she realized he was mouthing a warning.

But she understood too late. The weaver of the webs knew she was there. It came crawling out of the shadows onto one of the largest and highest webs – a fat, furry Dokugumon. With one of its forearms it reached out and grabbed hold of a particularly thick cord of webbing, and began to pull. At the other end were the strands trapping Yamato, who was now slowly being dragged from the web that supported him, up towards the waiting fangs of the Digimon.

“Yamato!”

“Sora! Get out of here! They’re coming!” he shouted back, but she didn’t listen. By the time she had reached him he had been pulled free of the web, and was hanging in midair as the Dokugumon pulled the gray rope up with both hands. Sora reached up and caught hold of his shoes, pulling downwards, putting all her weight into it. But the strength of the Dokugumon and its webbing was unbelievable. Before long, Sora herself was on the tips of her toes, holding on but losing ground.

“Sora!” she heard Yamato calling from above, “Please! Run! Taichi, he’s – he’s gone, and I’m…”

“Shut up!” was her response. She redoubled her efforts, but it was no use. Her feet had left the ground entirely. For a moment she was rising…and then one of Yamato’s laceless shoes slipped off in her hand. Caught by surprise, she couldn’t recover in time to keep the fingers of her other hand from losing their grip as well. She was falling. The ground shouldn’t have been more than a few inches below her, but she fell past where it had been, and saw the walls of earth rise above her. When she did land, it wasn’t mud that broke her fall.

Her back, her limbs, even her hair stuck fast to the web that caught her as it might catch a fly. Raindrops were falling on her face, but she could still see the earthen lip of the pit above, and the shapes that swarmed there. The spiders made their way to her. Most crawled down the walls towards the web, while others, more eager, leapt from above. She couldn’t turn her head much, but she knew they were all around her. And as Yamato screamed somewhere above, one of the KoDokugumon clambered onto her thigh to take the first bite.


	89. Lost

_“Slowly but inexorably crawling upon my consciousness and rising above every other impression, came a dizzying fear of the unknown; a fear all the greater because I could not analyze it, and seeming to concern a stealthily approaching menace; not death, but some nameless, unheard-of thing inexpressibly more ghastly and abhorrent.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Crawling Chaos”_

From where he sat, Iori could look out over the water of a pond. Nearby lanterns cast a warm glow on his surroundings: the shoji that formed a wall behind him, the wooden porch on which he and Upamon were sitting. Farther from the building, the night’s shadows were interrupted by fireflies hovering over the grass and the pond and between the blossoming cherry trees. It was beautiful.

Iori turned his head when he heard a shoji panel slide aside behind him. Chiho was framed in the opening. Behind her the interior could be seen, the tatami flooring illuminated by bonbori, but Iori’s focus was on Chiho herself.

Like him, she was dressed in normal everyday clothing, slightly out of keeping with their old-fashioned surroundings. It was a good symbolic representation of Chiho’s personality, with its blend of dignity and vivaciousness that had first attracted him to her. They had known each other to some extent for years, being students at the same elementary school, and besides getting taller she had changed little over time. Her brown hair was cut to shoulder length as it had always been, and her demeanor was as pleasant as ever.

Despite their long acquaintance, they hadn’t become close friends until just this year, but by the time August and summer break had come around they had reached the point where they felt comfortable enough to describe themselves as boyfriend and girlfriend.

“Hi, Iori. Hi, Upamon,” Chiho said, sitting down with them and leaving Upamon in the middle. The boy and his Digimon returned her greeting, and the three of them sat watching the pond and the fireflies.

“It’s a beautiful place, isn’t it?” Chiho asked, echoing Iori’s earlier thoughts.

“It’s great,” Iori agreed. They smiled at each other over Upamon’s head. Iori felt happy, and at ease. It was almost a strange feeling. He’d been so worried lately, about Chiho and about everything, but this moment was just about perfect. He wouldn’t have minded if it turned out to last forever.

“What’s that, dagyaa?” Upamon asked.

Iori and Chiho looked back to the pond, which the little Digimon was still watching. There was no wind, but the former stillness of the water had been broken. Something moved under the surface. A splashing began as the thing’s motions intensified. Part of it broke the surface, white and puffy in the moonlight.

The boy and the girl had both gotten to their feet. Iori didn’t know what was happening, but he knew that something was terribly wrong. His fears were confirmed when the object in the pond suddenly stopped thrashing and stood up out of the water – the form of an adult human. Iori recognized it immediately. It was his father, wearing a dark blue policeman’s uniform that was darker still now that it was soaking wet. The skin of the face and hands was unnaturally white, and Iori knew he was looking at a corpse. But the fact that it was dead did not prevent it from wading forward, its limbs moving stiffly.

Chiho gave a gasped scream and tottered backwards into the shelter of the house. Iori followed, keeping his eyes on the corpse’s face, its eyes wide and staring and its mouth set in a pained rictus. It was a terrifying sight, but even afraid as he was, Iori realized through the haze of the nightmare that this was not really his father. Hida Hiroki had been cremated in London after his death four years ago. This wasn’t him. This was a monster.

Iori was inside now. Upamon came bouncing in after, and for a moment Iori debated on whether or not to slide the shoji shut again, if only to cut off his vision of the thing. But already it had managed to crawl out of the pond, its dripping arms were extended over the floor where the children had been so recently sitting, and Iori continued his slow retreat.

“Iori-kun!” Chiho called, returning in her terror to the old honorific. “Hurry!”

Iori was trying to grasp the situation. He didn’t know for certain that the creature meant harm, but his instincts told him that it did, and he couldn’t begin to think on how to reason with it. Could Upamon scare it off by evolving?

“Upamon!”

“Iori! I—”

The corpse-thing’s expression jerked into a smile. “Can’t do that here,” it said, in a voice that wasn’t Hiroki’s, with a tone too cheerful for anything dead. Behind it, the deep blue-black of the sky flashed a stormy gray. Rents appeared suddenly in the paper of the shoji, and the paint on the room’s surfaces began to split and flake. The fireflies ceased their normal motions and jerked about in the air, emitting sounds like broken glass. The advancing monster stepped up and into the room. “Come here, son.”

“You’re not my father!” Iori shouted back.

“And yet you were still willing to give me the benefit of the doubt,” it observed, the smile widening, becoming more natural. The staring eyes of Hiroki fell forward out of the face, shattering like glass when they hit the tatami, and revealing the dark, narrow eyes behind them. “You’ve come so far, Hida-kun, but you still couldn’t understand me if you tried.”

Iori didn’t know what the thing was talking about. He had a feeling that he had heard its voice before, but all he could recall for certain was that it should terrify him. Right now the only thing he needed to understand was how to get himself, his girlfriend, and his partner out of danger. But he didn’t have time to think clearly; it was almost upon them. The swollen hands reached for him.

He almost screamed when something clutched his arm from behind. Then he heard Chiho urging him to come on, and she was pulling him away from the monster’s grasp. Finally he turned, and fled with her and Upamon. Chiho had slid another shoji aside, and they ran into another room that was much like the first. There were no lights here, but Iori saw in the dimness that there was a long, thin object lying on the tatami.

Chiho was still in full retreat. She reached the other side of the room and slid the first panel she came to out of her way. But she screamed again when she saw what was on the other side, because there was no third room or peaceful yard, but only a dizzying vertical drop to the waves of a gray ocean. Had not Iori been directly behind her, she might have lost her balance and fallen over the precipice, but he saw the danger, and just had time to grab her arm and pull her back into the room. They fell together to the floor, but Iori quickly regained his feet, remembering their pursuer.

It was still there, though it had paused, and stood grinning at them from the room’s threshold. Despite the lack of bonbori, the glittering of its black eyes was more noticeable than before. Iori slowly helped Chiho up, never taking his eyes from the creature. Upamon stood between it and the children, still unable to evolve.

“Well?” the monster asked. “You have your weapon of choice, don’t you? You know a Chosen Child can’t afford to be a pacifist.” It pointed with one white finger to what was lying on the floor. Using his peripheral vision, Iori could see that it was a shinai like the ones he and his grandfather used when practicing kendo. He hesitated for a moment, then bent and picked it up, keeping his eyes focused on the thing pointing at it.

“Iori…” Chiho whispered.

Iori gripped the bamboo sword in both hands, and leveled it at the figure before him.

“What do you want?” he asked it. He doubted that a fight could be avoided, or that he could win one against an opponent like this, but before the end came he needed to know why this thing was attacking him and his friends.

“It doesn’t really matter what I want,” the Dark One answered, its smile wide to the point of grotesquery. Besides the damp uniform, there was no semblance of Iori’s father left. “But a good show would be nice.”

It lurched forward. Without thinking, Iori struck at the head. It was a good hit – he had been prepared for an attack – and his opponent recoiled, still grinning. Iori almost shouted “ _men_ ” from force of habit, but didn’t. He wasn’t in a dojo, and this wasn’t a kendo match. This could be life or death.

The creature started forward again, more slowly. Iori looked for any surprise attack it might try to launch, but there was no technique in its approach. He swung again with the shinai, aiming for the side of the head, but the Dark One threw up an arm to intercept the blow. The sword struck it in the wrist, knocking the hand to an abnormal angle with a sickening crunch. The thing laughed at Iori – at the pallor of his face, and the cold sweat on his forehead, and the way he trembled.

Chiho screamed. Iori jerked around, and saw that while he and she had been focused on his would-be opponent, something black and shapeless had crawled up into the room through the open shoji. It had fastened onto one of Chiho’s ankles, and was swarming up her leg. Iori made to help her, his weapon temporarily forgotten, but before he could take a step the thing he had turned his back on draped itself around him, enveloping him with its soggy arms and stomach, and stifling his breath with its stench.

Before him he saw Chiho being rapidly encased in the black amorphous substance that had hold of her. She reached an arm out towards him, but then it too was engulfed.

“ _Iori, don’t let it—”_

Then her head was swallowed up, and the whole quivering black mass oozed back out of the room, taking her with it. The shoji slid shut once it had withdrawn.

“Chiho-chan!” Iori screamed.

“Always looking in the wrong direction,” said the voice of the Dark Man. “But at least you still have one friend left. Oh… No, I guess you don’t.”

And Iori woke. The Dark Man’s laughter sounded, either in his mind or in the pitch blackness of the room he lay in; he couldn’t tell. When it had faded all was quiet, but the last words of the nightmare remained with Iori, and gradually he came to understand their full meaning. That creature…AncientSphinxmon, or whatever it really was…had killed Armadimon and the others.

“Armadimon…”

It came out as a whisper of disbelief. Too shocked for immediate sorrow, his first emotion was fear as the silence closed in once more. Armadimon wasn’t here. But what else might be? He’d have no chance of defending himself this time. His hands were behind his back, and when he tried to move them he found that he was wearing handcuffs. _Like my father used to carry,_ he thought, with a shudder that shook his whole body.

It was only then that it really hit him. Armadimon _wasn’t here._ His partner – his best friend – was _dead._ Gone. Killed in the line of duty.

“No… No…”

He managed to get on his feet, not caring what his moaning and clicking handcuffs might stir up in the darkness.

“Armadimon!”

There was no answer. Not even an echo. He was alone. The rational side of his mind tried to remind him that Takeru and Ken had lost their partners and found them again, but its protests were drowned out by rising panic and biting grief. Armadimon and his father were both gone, and here he was chained in the dark, with no glimmer of light remaining.

“Takeru-san! Miyako-san!”

No response at all. He didn’t dare to try moving around in a place he couldn’t see, and there wasn’t even a wall to put his back to. All the strength went out of his legs, and he sank back down to the floor.


	90. Echoes

_“An awful silence reigned throughout those subterraneous regions, except now and then some blasts of wind that shook the doors she had passed, and which, grating on the rusty hinges, were re-echoed through that long labyrinth of darkness. Every murmur struck her with new terror…” – Horace Walpole,_ The Castle of Otranto

It was dark. That darkness, together with the lashing of the wind and the rain it brought with it, made it almost impossible for Miyako to see where she was going. She had no idea where she was. That last big blast seemed to have rattled her mind. Where had Hawkmon gotten off to? She called for him, but the storm tore the words away as they left her mouth.

She walked onward, struggling to maintain balance in the face of the terrific wind. Lightning flashed, followed immediately by thunder, but then the darkness returned and she was, if anything, blinder than before. Again she called for her partner, and again knew that no one would be able to hear her over the screaming wind.

Her foot caught on something and she pitched forward. Instinctively she put her hands out before her to break her fall, but they didn’t find the ground. Her stomach hit the earth and the breath was knocked out of her. She found her head hanging downwards, her hands against a vertical surface. Lightning struck again, and her confusion was replaced by terror when she saw that she was half hanging off a cliff. If she hadn’t tripped when she did, she could have walked right over the edge before she knew what was happening.

Quick as she could she scrambled backwards, away from the chasm. She was shaking all over. The storm, the fall, and the revelation of what she had escaped had left her nerves shredded, and she was soaked by the cold rain. Where was her partner? If Aquilamon were here, she would never be in danger of falling to her death.

Miserably, she picked herself up off the ground and paused, shivering. After what had happened she didn’t dare try walking about again at random, but she couldn’t very well stay where she was and let the storm have at her. As she hesitated, a brief lull came in the wind, and in the comparative silence she thought that she heard a familiar voice calling. Straining her ears against the storm and her eyes against the darkness, she waited, hoping for confirmation.

“Miyako-san!”

It was either nearer or louder, because now she was sure that the voice was Hawkmon’s. At first, peering in the direction it seemed to be coming from, she could only see a blackness alive with unseen wind and rain. But then a flash of lightning lit the sky behind her, followed by another and another, and in the glare she could just make out what could be her path to safety. If she put the cliff’s edge squarely behind her, there was a rugged mountainside about ten meters from where she stood, and – if her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her – there was a fissure in the rock wide enough to be a cave entrance.

Fervently thanking the lightning which had saved her twice in one night, Miyako began trudging towards her newfound shelter. She thought she heard Hawkmon call again, his voice distorted in the storm, and she wondered if he was lost outdoors as she had been.

“Hawkmon!” she yelled back, and she was just barely able to hear her own voice for the first time. But there was no response. She picked up her pace. Possibly her partner was already waiting for her in the cave. If not, she could at least use it as a safe haven from which she could conduct her search for him. She couldn’t think straight or hope to find anyone in all this cold and rain.

There was no need to fumble around looking for the entrance; she had passed into the cave before she had even realized it. The rain and wind were still loud, moaning and whispering past the open fissure, but she no longer felt them biting into her. Still shivering, she tried pulling her thoughts together. How had she gotten here? The storm had caught them suddenly, but how had she been separated from Hawkmon, and where was he now? She could no longer hear him.

She weighed her options. Her partner was nearby – probably still within earshot – but looking for him out in the darkness of the storm would be near impossible. She looked into the deeper darkness of the cave, wondering how far back it might go, and whether there was any chance that Hawkmon had already found it.

“Hawkmon?”

Her voice echoed through a black space whose size and shape she couldn’t begin to determine. But she got a response.

“Miyako-san?”

It wasn’t the voice she had been hoping for, but it still sent a wave of relief through her. It was Ken’s voice, sounding a little distressed, maybe, but in the same gentle tone he always addressed her with, and more than welcome in this strange place. He was apparently deeper into the cave and not out in the storm. If only she had a light!

“Ken-kun? Where are you? Are the others with you?” She remembered that they had all been together before the storm’s sudden fury had left her groping about in the dark.

“Miyako-san, can you hear me? I can’t see you.”

“Give me a second! I’ll try and find you.” She found the rough wall of the cave with one hand and kept it within reach as she made her way slowly forward. Before long, though, she noticed that the wall was sloping away to the left, whereas Ken’s voice seemed to have come more from the right. “…Ken-kun? Are you still there?”

No answer. She would have to leave the wall. The thought of being left in the dark again was panic-inducing. With both hands outstretched she moved slowly forward in what seemed to be the direction Ken’s voice had come from.

“Over here, Miyako-san,” Ken said again, convincing her that she was on the right path. “Hurry. Wormmon is hurt.”

For some reason that struck her as an odd thing for him to say. There wasn’t much she could do to help, the way things were. But she knew Ken was just scared, and that both of them would feel better once they were together.

“Do you know where Hawkmon is?” she asked the space in front of her. “I heard him, but I didn’t find him!”

“I…I thought he was—”

Ken’s voice was abruptly cut off as Miyako’s reaching hands came up against something. She’d been hoping to feel the fabric of Ken’s shirt through her gloves, but instead she gave a start as she realized she had found only another rough stone wall. She didn’t think she could have been mistaken about where his voice was coming from, but here was the wall under her fingers, and no sign of Ken.

“Ken-kun?” she called, her fear beginning to grow again. She didn’t hear an answer. Her hands felt over the cave wall as she tried once more to navigate. Just how big was this cave, anyway?

“Miyako-san!” She couldn’t help but jump at the new voice, even though she recognized it immediately as Hikari’s. It came from somewhere off to the right. Keeping in touch with the wall, Miyako began making her way in that direction.

“Hikari-chan? Where are you?” She was afraid that she might not get a response – that her friend might disappear as Ken had before. When the response did come, it startled her into a gasp that almost came out as a scream. Hikari’s voice seemed to be coming from directly below her. Not at her feet, but below the level of the cavern floor.

“Thank goodness! I’m here. Help me up!”

Trembling, Miyako crouched and found that she had again been saved from a fall. There was a natural pit in the floor – and Hikari’s voice was ascending from it. Miyako wasn’t sure she could judge how deep it was, especially in such perfect blackness.

“C-Can you climb?” she asked. “If Hawkmon was here…”

“I can’t reach,” Hikari answered. “My hands are gone!”

Miyako went suddenly cold, and she couldn’t get a response out before Ken’s voice spoke again directly behind her: “Miyako-san, where did you go?” He sounded more nervous than before. Automatically, Miyako turned away from the pit, half standing, feeling for him – he had seemed to be standing right behind her – but finding nothing. A hysterical laugh, again apparently Ken’s, echoed through the cave, and she couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It was followed by a wordless shout – from Daisuke, though its echoes sounded more like Iori.

_Am I going crazy?_ Miyako thought wildly. The storm was preferable to this. There were no people in this cave, only voices. She hurriedly began retracing her steps, but hadn’t gone more than a couple paces before she came up against a rough cavern wall that she couldn’t be sure had been there originally.

“Where are you going?” asked Ken’s voice – no, the Digimon Kaiser’s voice, coming straight through the solid rock before her. A little whimper escaped her as she began sidling hastily along the wall. Almost immediately she could tell that she was cut off from where she believed the cave’s exit to be. Had she stumbled into a parallel tunnel? Could the whole cave network be some kind of maze?

She turned and tried another direction, carefully testing each step to avoid walking headlong into some bottomless shaft. There were sounds following her that weren’t echoes of her movements. There were whispers in many voices, both those that she thought she could identify and softer, more furtive ones that she couldn’t. What was being said she couldn’t make out, but the tone of the conversation – if it was a conversation – was as vaguely threatening as the hum of a wasp nest.

She came up against another obstruction, a bulge of rock that marked the divergence of two tunnels leading in different directions. If she still had her bearings, which was far from certain, both led deeper into the darkness of the mountainside. From somewhere behind her there was a mocking giggle – Hikari’s, but with an alien maliciousness. Miyako didn’t know which way to go, or whether to turn around and seek another route… but what did it matter, if none of the choices brought her closer to escape?

A terrible vision sprang into her mind – a premonition of her groping her way through lightless tunnels for uncounted hours, harried by ghostly voices, stumbling into never-yielding stone, chasing echoes and chased by echoes. No glint of light, no kind word or face, no faces at all except the ones that her blinded eyes painted on the darkness.

“I want to get out,” she whispered, not realizing immediately that she had actually spoken.

“Get out!” the voices echoed, calling from somewhere down the black tunnels. At random, she chose a direction and began walking. Immediately a voice laughed, and she faltered, unsure of her decision.

“I want to get out,” she repeated. “I want to go home.” More laughs answered her, the unknown voices rising behind the twisted tones of her friends. “I want out!” she screamed, her last nerve breaking. “I want out! Please let me out!”

At that the laughs rose suddenly, breaking off into shouts whose echoes went shuddering down the numberless tunnels of the labyrinth. In the silence that followed, Miyako stood where she was, trembling in every muscle. And it was then that she heard a new, icy voice say, “Be careful what you ask for.”

Miyako jerked about in the direction the voice had come from. She was rewarded with her first glimpse of light since the storm’s fitful lightning, but it gave her no comfort. A phosphorescent sludge was oozing out of cracks in the walls. The liquid radiated a cold, dead light of pale blue, giving detail to the darkness without dispersing it. And standing in the rock corridor was the voice’s owner. She could not make out his features, but she knew the man was Sato Katsu.

Slowly her memories began to knit themselves back together. It was a sandstorm that she had been lost in, not a rainstorm. Hawkmon had been with her, but they had been separated. But how? Where was he now, while she faced that terrible man and the stuff he was allowing to seep in, alone? Seeping, oozing, like the black stuff of the generators that made energy from pain, and the generator at the Kaiser’s derelict base, before Paildramon had stopped its detonation.

Sato didn’t come towards her. He lifted some small object up for her to see by the glow of the dark slime – a red feather, its color faded almost to gray in the sickly illumination. He let it drop, and it fell, without drifting, into the substance that was seeping down the walls and pooling at Sato’s feet. The feather smoked as in a powerful acid, and burned away to nothing. Full memory returned, and Miyako understood. Her mouth hung open in horror. Tears began to form in her eyes, but there was no time to mourn. The blue liquid was flowing towards her, picking up speed. She took a step back, but found that the cavern had filled itself in behind her. Her back was against a wall.

“H-Hawk-mon!”

It came out as an ever-rising scream, both an appeal for help and a wail of anguish. Her voice broke, but still she held the last syllable, terror and sorrow drawing it out interminably as the deadly flood came on.


	91. The Soccer Field

_“I hate the moon – I am afraid of it – for when it shines on certain scenes familiar and loved it sometimes makes them unfamiliar and hideous.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “What the Moon Brings”_

Daisuke’s head jerked a little off the surface it had been resting on. Then he realized where he was and relaxed, his head hitting the bleacher a little harder than he meant it to. He had had a nightmare, something which didn’t happen very often. Daisuke’s most common dreams were daydreams, thoughts of the present or of the sunny future, little fantasies involving soccer or Hikari-chan or, in the past two years, the Digital World and the adventures to be had there. If he dreamed at all while asleep, the dreams tended to be little more than a series of images and impressions, the fleeting conceptions of an imagination that didn’t extend far beyond everyday life.

This time had been different. He had actually seemed to feel the heat of that desert and the sting of the sand. And there had been underground tunnels, where he had found something horrible. There were other parts of the dream that he remembered. They were fuzzy now, but he knew that when he was still asleep it had all been very clear. It was the worst dream he had ever had. It had been bad throughout, but the worst part had come at the end, when he and the others had been beaten, and V-mon had been killed.

The thought caused him to raise himself up again, to verify that Chibimon was nearby, but of course he wasn’t. Chibimon was probably back home, where Daisuke should be. He sat up and stretched, swinging his feet off the bleachers and settling them on the grass of the soccer field. What was he still doing out here? The night air was unseasonably cold, and he felt it keenly after being in that hot desert.

“Ah…stupid,” he muttered. There was no desert. Now that he was awake the dream was fading into a half-remembered discomfort. Looking down the field, he thought about the game that he had played there earlier in the day. The streetlights did little to illuminate the field, but in the sky hung a full moon whose light invested the grass with a faint glow that made it easy to see.

Another humiliating defeat. There was no getting used to them; each loss tore at his pride, and fired him up with the thought of a chance to redeem himself. No one had been there to see his team get beaten, but that was small comfort. He was used to playing in front of spectators that didn’t personally know him, but it irked him more than usual to not have had any friends in the bleachers today. Just someone to cheer him on. His parents rarely attended his games, and his sister never did – not that he would have wanted her to. But Taichi, at least, could be expected to come to a number of Daisuke’s games. Today there was no one.

He stood up. A cool breeze came whispering through the grass, and he shivered when he felt it. He’d always hated the cold. It would be a long walk home. He turned to go, when a sound drew his attention to the stairs that led up the bleachers. It was the unmistakable bounce of a soccer ball, and he spotted it immediately, hopping down the stairs as if it had gently rolled itself from the street above.

Daisuke stared at it a few seconds, blankly. There was something odd about it, apart from its sudden appearance. Daisuke didn’t know much about physics, but he knew soccer balls, and this one was acting strangely. It didn’t pick up speed as it rolled and bounced, but descended one step at a time at a measured pace. It annoyed him a little bit. When it hit ground-level and started rolling into the grass, he stepped forward without thinking and gave it a kick onto the field by way of revenge. Watching its arc in the air, he saw something else odd.

Someone was standing in the soccer field. He didn’t know how he could have missed them before, but they must have been standing there the whole time; there was nowhere else they could have come from. Daisuke winced, thinking that the flying ball might hit them, but it flew harmlessly past them at about a meter’s distance.

“Sorry about that!” Daisuke called out, rubbing the back of his head as he stepped forward. The figure didn’t respond. Looking more closely, Daisuke realized that he couldn’t make out any details of the person’s appearance. They were around his height, but he couldn’t even tell whether it was a boy or a girl. They stood in shadow, in strange contrast to the visibility of the rest of the field.

“Wanna play?” the figure asked. It was a boy’s voice. Daisuke didn’t recognize it, though he felt like he should. That sense of familiarity was joined by an equally mysterious sense of unease. There was nothing strange about the voice itself, but he felt a tingle in his spine anyway. He heard a faint rustle in the grass, and saw that the soccer ball was under one of the boy’s feet.

“Hey, how did—” then he stopped himself. It must be a different ball. He’d just missed it like he’d missed the kid standing over it.

“Well, come on, do you wanna play or not?”

“I should…probably get home,” Daisuke answered, still wondering about that voice and what made it strange.

“Ah, come on! Just a few shots.”

“But we’re the only ones here,” Daisuke pointed out.

“So what? That just means there’s no one here to see you lose.”

“Tch.” Daisuke was starting to get annoyed. He really didn’t want to stick around with this guy. It was a cold night, and the kid kind of gave him the creeps. But it wasn’t in his nature to back down from a challenge. He hesitated a moment longer before answering. “…Okay. A few shots.”

“You’re the first as goalie,” the other said. Daisuke gave a grudging nod. Goalie was not his usual position, and he’d wanted to just show this kid a thing or two and then leave, not sticking around long enough to have to switch off positions.

“Alright,” he repeated. “Just a few shots.”

They faced each other at the nearer goal. The soccer ball lay in the grass as a pale disk, like a dim second moon. No artificial light source was directed at the field, and Daisuke’s opponent was still anonymous in the insufficient moonlight. He could make out the boy’s features to some extent, but they remained shadowy, and hard to pin down as a complete picture.

“Get ready!” There was very little time between the warning and the kick. Daisuke tried to intercept the ball, but his reflexes were slower than usual, either from just waking up or because of the chilly night. The ball shot past his outstretched hand, and collided with the net. “I hope you have more in you than that,” his opponent said. There was some mockery in the voice, but also an apparently genuine disappointment.

“Let’s go again,” Daisuke said, keeping his anger in check as he passed the ball back to the other. He was better prepared for the second kick, which drove the ball in at a different angle. Hand and ball connected this time, but the ball’s momentum carried it on, making Daisuke wince at the pain in his ungloved fingers and curse at whatever his problem was.

“Man, you suck tonight,” the kicker said. “Glad I’m not on your team anymore.”

“You weren’t on my team,” Daisuke answered, barely suppressing the urge to tell the kid to shut up.

“I was at first,” the other retorted. “You probably just don’t remember because we didn’t talk much.”

“Alright then, what’s your name?” Daisuke asked, returning the ball. Before answering, the other boy launched a third kick, catching Daisuke off guard and scoring another goal. “Hey!”

“Score on me and I’ll tell you,” his opponent answered.

“Fine!”

“Following your lead got old real fast,” the boy said as they traded positions. “Must be even worse for the people who are stuck with you.”

“I don’t hear anyone complaining,” Daisuke said. He gave the ball a powerful kick, expecting it to shoot right past the other boy. But it didn’t. Instead it bounced off the goalie’s chest. Daisuke’s mouth fell open. In the dark, he hadn’t seen the boy move – the guy was just suddenly there.

“Maybe you’re not listening hard enough,” the boy said, catching the ball before it hit the ground. “Try again.” He threw Daisuke the ball, launching it straight outwards from his chest. Daisuke caught it and stood there a moment.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“I know everything about you,” the other responded. “Maybe if you actually recognized me you’d know that.”

Daisuke dropped the ball and kicked it as it fell. The boy in the goal made another quick move, and the ball rebounded from his shin. Daisuke heard that strange but normal voice out of the darkness.

“You’re about as bad at soccer as you are with girls. Have you tried basketball?”

“Oh, shut up!” he answered. “What’s your problem, anyway? And who are you?”

“Can’t tell you. You still haven’t scored.”

Daisuke growled under his breath and quickly stepped over to where the ball had landed, rounding on it and giving it another hard kick. He heard the sound of an impact, and saw the ball held between the boy’s hands.

“Damn it…”

“I bet you’re glad Taichi-senpai isn’t here to see this,” the goalie said as the ball came rolling again across the grass. “Or Hikari-chan.”

“How do you know them?” Daisuke demanded, eyes widening.

“Because I know you. Of course I know them! Man, you really are as stupid as they make you out to be.”

Daisuke wanted to respond immediately, but had to swallow first. “What are you talking about?” he said, doubly annoyed by his involuntary response. “They’re my friends. They wouldn’t call me stupid.”

“Idiot. Of course they would. Haven’t they pretty much said it to your face before?”

“No they— Well…they never said it like _that_ ,” Daisuke said. His opponent smirked audibly.

“But you know it’s what all your friends think, right?”

“Well—” Daisuke said, stammering at first but then regaining his confidence. “Well, even if they do, they’re still my friends. They like me how I am. Ken and Takeru said so, on Valentine’s Day.”

“Yeah, I remember. Now come on! Are you going to shoot again, or what?”

“Wait— Ah!” Daisuke dropped his question in favor of another savage kick of the soccer ball. Instead of the hoped-for swish of the goal net, there was another punchy thud as the goalie deflected it with his knee.

“Maybe you should try keeping it on the ground.”

Daisuke glowered, not responding. It wasn’t much of a surprise that he couldn’t score, with his limbs a little numbed by the chill of the night. Damn the cold and this jerk for bothering him! He couldn’t just leave; neither his pride nor his curiosity would let him. He was staying right here until he could figure out who this guy was and how he knew so much about him and his friends. He thought back, trying to recall where he had met this kid before. How could he not remember someone who seemed so familiar? In his mind he heard Takeru: _The Daisuke-kun that acts without thinking is better!_

_Shut up, Takeru,_ he thought.

“Should we just quit?” the other said.

“No, not yet,” Daisuke responded. He spotted the ball in the grass where it had come to a rest and gave it a kick. Like the goalie had suggested, he kicked it along the ground, knowing that that would be harder to deal with than something airborne. His opponent’s feet moved fast, kicking the ball away from the goal once more, but Daisuke kept his eye on it, and kicked it again, at a sharp angle.

Quick though the other boy was, it was a move that he hadn’t expected, and the ball rushed into the net at one corner of the goal. Daisuke let out a whoop. The goalie turned around to stare at the soccer ball, as if he wasn’t sure to believe what had happened.

“Alright!” Daisuke said, smiling at his victory. “Who are you?”

“Tch. What are you so happy about?” the other said, turning around again. “You made one shot. And it’s the last time you’ll ever score.”

“What are you—”

Daisuke winced as light suddenly flooded the soccer field. At first he squinted in the unexpected glare, but then his eyes widened and he gasped at the sight of what stood in front of the goal.

It was like looking into a mirror, but at the same time not like that at all. It wasn’t a reflection. The clothes were different and the stance was different – but the boy was him! That voice was his, and he hadn’t recognized it!

“Idiot!” he saw himself say. “Who else would it be?”

“B-But…” Daisuke stammered.

“Oh, just shut up,” his double said, advancing on him. “Loser. You lost all those soccer games, and you lost V-mon, and you’re going to lose Hikari-chan and everything else.”

“I didn’t lose…” Daisuke’s voice trailed off as he remembered the dream he had been having. “But that was just—”

“You’ll know, when you really wake up,” the other said, stopping in front of him. Daisuke’s brain didn’t quite process what his doppelganger meant before it latched onto what was said previously.

“And _what_ about Hikari-chan?”

“You’ll lose her, like I said. And Takeru will too. All your friends are going to lose everything. Even if you _were_ as smart as Ken or Takeru you couldn’t win.”

“You’re wrong!” Daisuke said. “Whatever we’re up against, me and my friends can beat it!”

His double gave him a disgusted look before turning away. “Stupid. Stupid, stupid.”

“Hey! Get back here!”

Daisuke reached out to grab the retreating figure by the shoulder – and his hand passed right through it. The whole thing was gone in a moment – his double, the lights, the soccer field – only darkness and the cold of the night remained. Daisuke drew back his hand with a frightened cry of surprise, but something clung to it like frost. He yelled again, this time in pain. It felt like a million tiny needles of ice were working their way into the flesh of his hand.

The cold and the pain spread. It moved up his arm. It reached his chest and he screamed in pain, falling to his knees. Inexorably it swept over and through him as an icy tide. There were icicles in his brain, frozen shards in every part of him. The cold became his body. It became his world.


	92. Manifest

_“I have drifted o’er seas without ending,_   
_Under sinister grey-clouded skies,_   
_That the many-forked lightning is rending,_   
_That resound with hysterical cries;_   
_With the moans of invisible daemons, that out of the green waters rise.”_   
_– H. P. Lovecraft, “Nemesis”_

She was running through the halls. They weren’t supposed to run inside the school, but how often had she and the others broken that rule when there were no adults around? Two instances in particular came to her mind. Coming in from the rain and rushing to the computer lab to meet her brother, when Agumon had needed their help in the Digital World. And another time, not long afterwards, when she’d seen something in the stairwell that sent her fleeing from the building. On that day the sun had been shining. People had been outside enjoying the spring weather. She had wanted to grab hold of that bright normalcy and hold onto it, to keep the sane, healthy world she knew from slipping away.

This was nothing like that day. The sky through the windows was as dark as the halls, and everywhere, inside and out, was flooded with shadows. Hikari was terribly afraid. She had to find Tailmon. Her partner was somewhere in these halls and rooms, and she had to find her before whatever she feared made its move.

As far as she could tell, the entire school was empty except for herself. But although she didn’t see or hear any hint of danger, the whole place seemed saturated with menace. There was something here that wanted to harm her. She could feel it. With every passing of a door or turn of a corner came a sudden wave of dread. The slap of her shoes on the linoleum floors threatened every moment to bring the terror down upon her, but she didn’t dare stop running. She had to find Tailmon.

There was an open door on her left. She whipped her head about to glance inside, as much to see if Tailmon was there as to verify that nothing was ready to lunge out at her. There was nothing… but through the adjacent window she got a full view of the classroom. There were rows of empty desks – and a white shape atop one of them that she recognized immediately. Hikari brought herself to a sudden halt. Despite the terror of the situation, her face brightened into a smile.

She hurriedly entered the door nearest the front of the classroom. Tailmon stood on the farthest desk in the front row, with her back to Hikari, apparently gazing out the window at the lowering sky.

“Tailmon,” Hikari said, quietly but joyously, as she stepped forward at a slower pace. Her partner didn’t answer, or even turn around. For a moment Hikari felt a strange disturbance in the air, as if a wind had come through the room without quite touching her. “Tailmon,” she repeated. Her smile was gone, and fear had crept into her voice. She reached out with a gloved hand, her fingers falling lightly on the Digimon’s shoulder.

It didn’t feel right. Something about the fur and the flesh beneath it was different. Hikari jerked her hand back as if she had laid it on a snake. The suddenness of the motion and its unexpected violence turned Tailmon around, and Hikari realized that she was looking at a plush toy in the shape of her partner. As the doll’s momentum stopped, it tipped over and fell backwards. At the same instant the head, with its lifeless eyes, toppled forward off the body, leaving a gaping hole in the neck where the cotton stuffing could be seen.

Hikari gasped as the head landed at her feet, a sound that may as well have been a scream in that silence. Was there an answering sound from out in the hallway, or was her frightened imagination working on her? She looked toward the door, but saw no dark shape through the window. She looked back to the desk and the stuffed animal. The head’s glassy blue eyes stared up at her. The doll’s body was halfway off the surface of the desk, and as she watched it slipped slowly into the seat. It was gravity and other simple laws of physics that allowed it to continue its sluggish motion, but to the girl watching it looked horribly like the body was crawling down to the floor to retrieve its lost head.

Feeling somehow sickened, Hikari turned back to the door, putting the unexplainable stuffed doll behind her. She wanted to leave the room, but she recalled that impression of a sound in the hall, and looked closely at the open door. If she really had heard something a moment ago, she heard nothing now.

Maybe it had been nothing…but what about that replica of Tailmon? Had she been lured into a trap? She thought of what might be crouched beside the door or under the windows, what dark shapes might be lying in wait. Should she try to leave? She had to find Tailmon – the warm, living, protecting Tailmon – and she couldn’t do that if she stayed here. Maybe if she was quick, or if there was nothing there at all… But what if there was? What if she wasn’t fast enough? What if something snatched her, held her, and she didn’t have the strength to break free of its talons?

There was a soft thud behind her as the doll’s body hit the floor. Startled into action by the sound, she made for the other door. From what she could see as she passed by the windows, the hallway was as empty as it had been before. Still, she left the room at a run, and didn’t slacken her pace once she had determined that she really was alone – or as alone as she had ever been in this threatening place.

She was getting closer to the end of the hall, where the stairwell was. She thought again of that long ago day when she had begun to disappear. Her imagination flew ahead of her, populating the shadows with things still darker. But the hallway remained clear, and she kept on, knowing there was a chance that around the next corner might be the little white shape she needed so much at the moment.

Finally she was at the stairs. Now there was a new problem – should she go up or down? The school was three stories tall. On the upper level, she might get cut off from the building’s exit. The dusky, unpeopled Odaiba outside looked no more pleasant than the school was, but she’d be less likely to be backed into a corner outside. Besides, why would Tailmon be on the third floor? She went down.

The halls of the ground floor were little different from the ones she had left behind. Just as dark, just as silent, and just as menacing. Hikari knew that she had to press on. She had to hurry to find Tailmon, or help of any kind, and to keep ahead of whatever horror was groping for her. But she was tiring. The run through the halls had sapped her energy, and there was still no sign of any living thing but herself.

Her previous sense of certainty was also wavering. Was Tailmon not here after all? Was there someone else she could turn to? There was no one here. She hadn’t seen anyone inside the school, and there didn’t seem to be anything moving outside it either. She’d encountered no friend, and no enemy. To all appearances, she was alone. But she didn’t _feel_ alone.

She took a few more uncertain steps down the hallway. Her eyes scanned the walls and the doors lining them, but they had no answers for her. She considered calling for Tailmon – or anyone – aloud, though she couldn’t imagine that it would bring her any more attention than her footfalls had. Still…

“Tailmon?” She didn’t say it very loudly. Even without being shouted the word seemed almost to echo in the quiet of the school. Hikari wasn’t sure whether she was hoping more to get or to not get a response, but a response came. Far down the hall, one of the closed doors swung noiselessly open.

In reality, she didn’t have to wait long for the opener to emerge into view, but it seemed to her that long, breathless minutes passed as she stood rooted, unable to approach or retreat. Then the moment was over, and she was looking at what her call had summoned. Even as far away as she was she heard the drops of water that fell from the black, hunched body.

It was that day again, as she must have known all along that it would be. She made no sound – only walked slowly backwards, watching to see if the thing would come running at her. It didn’t, but it didn’t stop its approach, either. She heard the sound it made, a growling, sewer drain gurgle in its throat, and as it stalked forward she saw first one door open and then another. A sudden splash on her right caused her to whirl in that direction, and her reflexes only just allowed her to recoil from the black creature reaching for her from the restroom’s doorway.

Her nerve broke immediately, and she turned and ran down the hallway, the way she had come. It was too much. It had gotten too close. She couldn’t stand to have one of those slippery monsters touch her.

She was making for the exit. The main entrance to the school wasn’t far. She had no intention of using the stairs again, but as she passed them she did glance in that direction. Immediately she wished she hadn’t. The school didn’t have a basement, but she saw that there was another flight of steps leading down instead of up, down to shadow-choked water from which the first dark heads were emerging. She caught a glimpse of the emotionless yellow eyes, then she was beyond the stairs and picking up as much speed as she had strength left for.

The doors were just up ahead. If only they were unlocked… They were. The first that she pushed gave way, though with an agonizing slowness and heaviness that she had never noticed before. She pushed harder, putting all her weight on the bar, and taking a frantic look over her shoulder as she did so, down the hallway. The things were so close. How could they have covered so much ground with their slow, deliberate shambling?

As soon as there was room she squeezed her way past the door and into the little atrium. Another row of doors stood between her and the outer world. She threw herself at this last barrier, meeting just as much resistance as at the last door. She strained against the door’s inertia, not daring to look back again. But it was not a question of exertion but a question of time. Regardless of how hard she pushed, the door would not open faster. Through the glass she could see the outside world – dark and uninviting, but her only chance for safety.

It couldn’t have been more than ten seconds before there was enough space for her to escape, though each crawled by like an hour while she pushed. Though she couldn’t see them, she felt the presence of her pursuers, and she realized that the stench of sea things, the smell of that ancient town in the other world, had crept into her nostrils. A sound between a grunt and a whimper escaped her as the door crept another few millimeters, giving her the room she needed to fit through.

She came close to stumbling, but it wasn’t until she had run down the few steps to the pavement and crossed half the distance to the school’s front gate that she paused to look back. Any elation that she might have felt at her temporary escape left her as her eyes fell again on the terrible shapes behind her. 

The foremost of them had already reached the doors, which moved easily under the pressure of their inky limbs. Hikari couldn’t tell how many were there and how many were still coming, but knew that it would only take the strength of one to immobilize her. Pausing only a moment to catch her breath, she still had time to wonder why they filled her with so much horror. She had looked on Digimon twice as gruesome without fear. But this was not the time to ponder. She not only feared them, she had reason to fear them, and now was the time to run.

She headed for the entrance to the schoolyard at a rapid pace, not thinking about where she was going, but determined to put as much distance between herself and the creatures as possible. The long hedges that fronted the school ended in short walls, between which a gate stretched when the building was not in use. Luckily, the way was open… But as she approached she almost stopped in surprise as the gate thrust out of the wall, shortening the gap. She started running again as it gave another jerk forward. Had the distance to the gate always been this long? She ran harder as the gate drew nearer to blocking her escape route.

Suddenly she was there, with just enough time to dash through before the gate jerked shut with a clang. She stood on the broad sidewalk, gasping, her knees weak from emotion and exertion. She didn’t want to stop for long, but she had to stop for a little while. For the first time she really paused and took in what lay beyond the grounds of the school. Mostly it was what she had noticed before: the familiar surroundings under an oppressive twilight, devoid of vehicles.

But she could see now that it was not devoid of life. Someone was standing on the other side of the street, and with a thrill of relief she saw that it was her brother. He was standing with his back to her, apparently watching the bay. For a moment she stood staring in joy. Then it occurred to her that he was probably in as much danger as she was, and she started across the empty street. She had to warn him, find out if he knew what was going on, and she needed to hear his voice.

“Onii-chan!” Her call seemed unpleasantly loud in the silence; she was too excited to keep her voice down. But he showed no sign of having heard her, and remained motionless even as she came within a meter of him. Setting foot on the sidewalk, she slowed to a stop, wondering what the matter was. Uneasily she thought back to the fake Tailmon in the school… but that was ridiculous. This was clearly her brother – no statue or mannequin could look so realistic. “Onii-chan?”

He finally turned and looked at her. She smiled, but the smile faded as she looked into his face. There was an expression in his eyes – or rather a lack of expression, as if he didn’t recognize her.

“We have to go,” she said, remembering what was following her, and trying to dismiss the strangeness of Taichi’s manner as a result of the unnatural situation.

“Yes,” he answered, though his agreement did nothing to put her at ease. His voice was as cold and distant as his look. “Hikari.”

In all the years since she’d been born, Taichi had said Hikari’s name countless times, in tones conversational, amused, concerned, irritated… but he had never said it like that. That strange inflection was so unfamiliar that she wasn’t even sure what it signified. But she knew that it frightened her. As she hesitated, he took a step in her direction, extending a hand.

“Onii…chan…” She tried to form a question, one of many, but he spoke again before she could get it out.

“Come here, little sister. I will show you where we must go.”

Taichi stood before her, and his voice was his own, but the tone was alien, and his way of speaking was strange. She took a step backward as her suspicion became a certainty. This was not her brother. A strange feeling of déjà vu came over her, and she realized that she was reminded of the vision BelialVamdemon had put into her head when the tide of battle turned against him. This person wasn’t her brother, and this grim place wasn’t Odaiba. It was another illusion… No, another nightmare.

As she continued walking backward, she looked past the false Taichi to what had been Tokyo Bay. Gathering mist and darkness had shrouded it, and the gray waters matched the sky. Hikari knew now where she really was, and she turned away from the shape of her brother, to run down the street. She ran at a dead sprint, pouring all her remaining energy into that flight from unknown horror, and not stopping or slowing when the pavement gave way to sand beneath her shoes.

She wondered how long she could hold out. Besides a passing interest in dancing, she wasn’t an athlete, and her energy was almost gone. An insane image came into her head: herself, dancing – spinning and leaping across the sand in preparation to meet the Thing whose lurking presence she had felt throughout the dream. She shook the thought away and ran on.

At last her strength was spent. It seemed like she had run for miles before her aching legs were too weak to go on. Unable to remain standing she fell to her knees, taking burning gulps of air into her lungs. Though she didn’t look around, she knew that there were no longer any landmarks or living beings. The mist obscured whatever lay beyond a few meters of her. From her right came the lapping of the ocean.

_Wake up,_ she ordered herself, as she listened for any sound of pursuit. _Wake up, wake up…_

When that had failed, she tried to calm down, reminding herself that a dream could not hurt her. Then it occurred to her to try and call out to the waking world. Maybe this time her voice would reach. Maybe someone would hear. Her true brother, in his bedroom, or Tailmon, who even now must be right beside—

Her train of thought stopped short. No, she was not in her bed. Sand beneath her feet… she had been in the desert. She had been watching the battle… She had seen it when Tailmon…was killed.

The first edge of the incoming tide washed against her right leg, and flowed back. Tears had formed in her eyes by the time cold hands gripped her upper arms. She was hauled to her feet, her legs weak with more than exhaustion. As the next wave of the tide soaked her shoes she was turned about to face the Dark Ocean.

“A long time we have waited,” the voice that resembled Taichi’s said behind her. “Prepare yourself, Hikari. The time has come, little sister.”


	93. Positions of Power

_“Ye lite fayles, ye shadows gather. There is no god but evil; no lite but darkness; no hope but doom—” – Robert E. Howard, “Dig Me No Grave”_

The first thing Taichi became aware of was a gentle movement. From his perspective, it was what woke him up. The bed he’d been lying in and the sheets his restless movement had disarrayed were gone, replaced by a hard surface that curved upward on either side. Hurriedly sitting up, he felt it pitch back and forth, and recognized that he was in a small boat. Regaining his balance and steadying the vessel, he began taking in more details of his surroundings.

The wooden boat, scarcely big enough for two passengers, floated in motionless water that stretched to a horizon hidden behind walls of silvery mist. There were no waves, and no breath of wind. Taichi couldn’t hear anything, though there was a smell in the air that he didn’t like. He couldn’t identify it, and thought that it might even be his imagination, but it wasn’t any more likeable for either reason.

Now came the time for wondering where he was and how he had gotten there. He had to be outside, or there wouldn’t be any mist. Peering over the edge of the boat didn’t tell him anything. The water was a filmy gray, giving no indication of how deep it might be, and with the mists hanging close around he had no way of knowing whether he might be on an ocean or in a swimming pool.

In fact, he wasn’t even sure whether or not the boat was moving. Sometimes he thought that it was, like it had seemed when he woke, but with the stillness and blankness of the water he couldn’t be sure. All of his sensations were vague, as in one of those dreams that seem real until the dreamer wakes up and wonders how he could ever have thought so.

Yes, a dream of gray waters. Hadn’t he been thinking about such dreams not long ago, when he was on his way home? He remembered now how he had arrived at the apartment and paced in his room for long minutes despite his exhaustion. He’d made as little contact with his parents as possible, afraid that they might smell Lilithmon’s victims on him. He hadn’t been sure if the stench of blood had really clung to his clothes as it had to his mind.

And now he was dreaming. This had to be the start of another nightmare. He waited, wondering apprehensively what he would be forced to see and feel. But he couldn’t wait long. All day long his frustration and rage had been building up over his fear and forced inaction, and now a burst of that anger welled up inside him.

“Well, come on and let’s do this!” he shouted into the mist, not caring what heard him. “You cowards! Come out of hiding and fight me, or whatever, but stop wasting my time with these stupid dreams!”

He would have continued, no matter how loud the silence that met his shouts got. But suddenly the boat was moving, as if a powerful current had risen out of nowhere, and the surprise of it sent him stumbling. He might have pitched headlong into the water, but as he started to fall a movement of the water’s surface sent him reeling backwards. It didn’t seem to have been made by the wake of the boat, and a sudden terror had turned his stomach and thrown him away from whatever had caused it.

The boat rocked wildly, and for a horrible moment he was afraid it would capsize, but before long it had regained its equilibrium, and he was left in its bottom, shaken. Unsteadily, cautiously, he raised himself up again. There were still no landmarks to go by, but he sensed that the boat was picking up speed. What had sent it into motion he had no idea, but whatever had turned the ocean into a rushing river, he knew that it couldn’t bode well for him. That unnerving scent had gotten stronger, cold and sterile in his nostrils.

Looking ahead, at first he could see nothing but the never-thinning mist. Then something silent and dark emerged from the cloudy vagueness ahead. It passed by on the starboard side of the boat, and was lost again in the fog, though as it passed he could see that it was a building such as one might see in Tokyo, crumbled and rotted into a shapeless hulk. Other buildings followed, on both sides, all of them looking like the age-blackened ruins left by some apocalyptic war.

He didn’t know what it meant, but after a while he felt the speed of the boat slacken, as if it was approaching its destination. Taichi sat quiet, staring ahead. He welcomed a confrontation, but a traitorous part of him dreaded it as well. After another minute, a new shape rose out of the fog. He saw that it was a squared-off archway, and when another materialized behind the first he recognized them as the porticos that decorated the apartment complex where he lived.

The boat passed solemnly under the first of the porticos, and the others followed in eerie procession. Taichi still crouched in the little craft, tensed up with expectation. He noticed that a few of the objects were warped or cracked like the buildings that had come before. Was he floating over the streets of a dead and drowned Tokyo?

_No,_ he thought, insistent. _It’s just a dream._

The last portico passed over his head, and a moment later the boat had run aground. Trying to keep steady, Taichi stood up and started to climb out. The land the boat had struck was an uneven plateau of cracked and blasted concrete. It looked like an abandoned battlefield, but it seemed solid enough, and Taichi was happy to leave the water behind him.

The mist still hung around, so he couldn’t see how far the concrete extended. He started walking, not sure where he was headed, but unwilling to remain inactive. The going was slow over the rough terrain. Picking his way along, he had time to wonder what was waiting for him here. The boat hadn’t started moving until he had called out his challenge.

What would he face? He thought of the Airdramon that had burnt him alive in a previous dream. Maybe it would be another Digimon this time. Since this was a dream, it could really be anything. He promised himself that whatever it was he would meet it with all his courage and all his anger. Pointless as it might be, he would fight it. If any chance to hurt the unknown forces that had taken Hikari and made life hellish for him and his friends presented itself, he would take it.

The general trend of the ground seemed to be uphill in the direction he was moving, so he had to prevent himself from falling when a step took him suddenly to the edge of a concrete cliff. There was about a meter’s drop or more from the crumbled edge he stood at to the field of concrete that continued on into the fog below. He wondered if he was going in the right direction, and was about to call out again when a sound like thunder broke the silence, and a large slab of the concrete he was standing on tumbled from the cliff.

As before, the unexpected movement cost him his balance. Falling backwards off the chunk of rock as it hit the ground, he felt a burst of pain in his back as he landed on the far from even ground. It was lucky that he hadn’t broken his skull. Swearing, he raised himself up, the rubble shifting under him with a heavy rattle.

“Taichi?”

There was another twinge of pain as he turned his head, looking for the source of the juvenile growling that could only be Agumon’s voice. At the base of the artificial cliff he saw a spot of orange, and climbing carefully over the rocks he got close enough to see that it really was Agumon there – or part of him. Taichi could see an arm and head, but the rest of his partner was hidden due to his being half buried in the side of the cliff. The reptilian Digimon was bruised as though he had just lost a battle, and Taichi wondered if the unstable concrete had somehow collapsed on him.

“Agumon! Are you okay? Can you get out?”

Agumon strained against the rocks that pinned him, but soon winced and had to stop.

“Sorry, Taichi. It hurts.”

Taichi was reaching out to put a hand on his partner when a strange feeling came over him. With the shock of his fall and the very convincing sensations it had given him, he had temporarily forgotten his conviction that he was dreaming. These past few nights the nightmares had differed from reality only because of their strange content. More realistic than dreams or hallucinations, they had the power to convince a person of anything.

So how did Agumon fit into this? His partner couldn’t really be in the same dream as him, could he? Was he just a part of the dream? Taichi paused and studied the little dinosaur more carefully. He looked like Agumon, and sounded like Agumon… but did that prove he _was_ Agumon? What if this was a trap of some kind?

“What’s wrong, Taichi?”

The question seemed like a perfectly innocent one. Taichi remembered hearing that warm, friendly voice telling him to bring out his courage once, when he was reaching towards something else that had the potential to hurt him.

“Nothing,” he said. He laid a hand on Agumon’s extended foreclaw.

“So you’ve arrived, Yagami-san,” said a voice somewhere behind him.

“Taichi, there’s someone there,” Agumon said.

Taichi didn’t need to be told that. Letting go of Agumon, he straightened and turned around to see the dark figure of a man standing in the mist, half obscured. The quality of the voice alone told him that the confrontation he had been waiting for had arrived. He could sense the hatred behind its icy civility.

“Alright,” Taichi said. “Who are you?”

“You’ve already guessed who I am. I sent the message from your sister’s D-Terminal this afternoon,” the voice answered. The mist and the shroud of darkness left the speaker’s facial features indistinct. Taichi clenched his fists, unsure of what would happen if he gave in to the urge to close the distance between them.

“Then you’re the one behind all this?”

“You could say that I am.”

“I wish I wasn’t dreaming right now,” Taichi told him, glaring.

“So do I,” the figure said. “Today I finally had the pleasure of meeting some of your friends in person. I look forward to getting to know them better.”

“Making us think that Lilithmon had them… Where are they? What did you do to them?” Taichi asked, his voice rising with his questions.

“What happened to Tailmon and the others?” Agumon joined in, looking just as angry as Taichi from his rock prison.

“For now I’ll leave that to your imagination,” the other answered. “Though I wonder if not knowing would hurt as much as knowing what happened, and what’s going to happen. But I’ll make sure you learn all the details eventually. Then we’ll find out.”

“You’re sick,” Taichi spat.

“I’m pragmatic. Our plan relies on causing as much pain as possible. The Chosen Children are an essential part of that. It’s the reason that we were so glad to meet Takaishi-san, and Ichijouji-san, and Moto—”

“Shut up, damn it!” Taichi yelled at him, not wanting to hear the names ticked off one by one. “When I wake up, I’m going to find you. I’m going to save them all!”

“You’ll try,” the man said, unperturbed. “I know your guilt would never let you rest if you didn’t. Not after you’ve failed them like this.”

“I…” But he couldn’t respond. He knew that he _had_ failed them.

“You’d think of poor Hikari-san…”

That was exactly what he didn’t want to think about. Protecting his little sister had been his most sacred duty. He was supposed to always be there for her, but that morning he had sent her – sent all of them, but especially her – into the waiting clutches of this psychopath. He thought he recognized the smell that had been bothering him now. It was exactly the way he remembered that hospital smelling when Hikari lay there, at the brink of death. Something much crueler than a cold threatened her now.

“No… I won’t let anything else happen,” he said, as much to himself as to the other. _Snap out of it,_ he told himself. _This is part of their plan, too. Putting these bad memories in my head._

“I think you’ll find that that isn’t your choice to make.”

Taichi’s rage flared up again.

“That’s enough! Agumon!”

His Digivice was suddenly in his hand. If Agumon evolved to Greymon, it would free him from the concrete that he was pinned under. Taichi would take no more from this man who threatened him and all he cared about. He turned towards his partner, whose look of determination matched his own.

A second passed, and then another. Taichi looked to his Digivice in confusion, but there was no reaction of any kind.

“T-Taichi,” Agumon called, realizing that something was wrong.

“An evolution born of light has no place here,” Sato’s voice said from the mist. “The Holy Device is useless. No amount of courage can change that. Darkness is fed by fear as well as by pain, and by anger, hatred, sorrow, and despair. That is the only source of power here.”

Taichi looked long at Agumon. He could see his partner was trying, but he knew that his enemy was right. It would be no use. He spun around, and charged toward the man in the fog.

He had almost reached his goal when the ground changed without warning beneath his feet. With a cacophonous rumble, what had been a flat field of unbroken concrete shattered and shifted. A network of cracks appeared in the surface, and chunks of rock sank or were lifted up at random. Taichi stumbled and went down. His clothing and the skin beneath were torn open, and he was bleeding from a half dozen wounds as he shakily raised himself.

Before him the shrouded form of Sato Katsu stood, raised on an unbroken island above the chaos of broken stone. Even as injured as he was, Taichi would have crawled on, and come to grips with his tormenter, but behind him he heard the heard the crash of titanic feet, and the appalling noise of bones grinding against each other.

There was no chance of escaping. Rolling onto his back, Taichi saw death rising over him in the form of SkullGreymon. A miasma of purple darkness rolled off the gray bones of the huge figure, the skeletal monster that would have towered over any living Greymon. The fleshless claws reached for him.

He screamed as the monster seized him, tightening its grip until he thought he would be crushed to a puddle of gore. Raised aloft, he found himself looking past SkullGreymon’s uneven fangs – into the deepest, most utter blackness he had ever seen.


	94. Lightless Dawn

_“I have seen the dark universe yawning,_   
_Where the black planets roll without aim;_   
_Where they roll in their horror unheeded, without knowledge or lustre or name.”_   
_– H. P. Lovecraft, “Nemesis”_

The sun rose behind thick cloud cover. The rain had become a storm in the night, and the weather showed few signs of improvement. The day’s grim look reflected the moods of those Chosen Children who had the good fortune to wake up in their own world. They sat at their breakfast tables as part of morning ritual, but had little appetite despite the rigors of the previous night. They sat and thought about what had happened, and what might happen in the future. Naturally, their thoughts went out to their juniors, but there were other things to consider as well.

Foremost in Taichi’s mind was the black Tailmon that had led them into Lilithmon’s trap. They hadn’t seen her again after the battle, and if she was still in Odaiba he wanted to find her. Once again she might be the only real lead they had. All his muscles tightened when he thought of her and the way her very shape mocked him. When he woke that morning, a part of him hadn’t been able to let go of the idea that yesterday had been just another nightmare. It was too awful, too elaborately terrible to have actually happened. But his sister’s room was empty.

Agumon sat in one of the table’s other chairs. His appetite was as rapacious as always, but he was too in tune with his partner’s emotions to eat at his normal rate. Taichi looked at him and he felt he should say something.

“What—” Then he cut himself off, not sure that it was a good idea to ask what Taichi had dreamed about. Taichi caught the abortive question and guessed what it might have been. He remembered meeting someone in the dream, possibly the man responsible for all of this, though he hadn’t really learned anything about him. If he could find the guy in real life… but he might need to find the black Tailmon first. He got up from the table without saying anything to his partner. He needed to talk to the others. Koshiro would have a plan.

***

Ken returned to consciousness slowly. He knew in a subconscious way that it would not be a pleasant awakening, but his exact situation wasn’t at all clear. His body ached, and it was no wonder considering that he was lying on a hard stone surface. He groaned and sat up slowly, his newly opened eyes adjusting to the dimness of the room. “Where…?”

“Hell.”

At the sound of the voice he snapped into full awareness. His gaze jumped to the figure standing in the center of the small gray room. That one word had been enough to tell him who it was, and even if it hadn’t he wouldn’t have been able to mistake that tall figure and its dusky, strangely foreign face. The whiteness of the Dark Man’s teeth shone through the shadow that clung to him, and the black eyes glittered as they had on that first night of uneasy sleep.

“Or,” the Dark Man continued, “a place that’s close enough.”

Ken didn’t know how to react. He realized that he was handcuffed, and that his arms were useless behind his back. Standing now, he glanced over the room, looking for a possible escape, but there were no doors or windows of any kind along the walls of grim stone. The room’s only feature was the elevated part of the floor along the wall, which he had been lying on. A sudden intense claustrophobia seized him. _No way out._

The Dark Man chuckled, long and low, and Ken turned his frightened face to the figure again. Even at such close range he couldn’t discern the Dark Man’s appearance beyond its essential features. He wore a long, dark coat or cloak of some kind. He might have had jet black hair, or no hair at all. There were eyes and a smile – they drew all attention away from minor details.

“Well, Ichijouji-kun?” the Dark Man said at last. “Don’t tell me you’re just going to sit and stare.”

_What else can I do?_ Ken wondered. He tried to break through his stunned surprise and think. It didn’t take long; this was no dream, and there were no impediments to memory. The fight in the desert came rushing back to him, and with it the memory of what he had seen at the last when the eclipse fell.

“You… You killed Wormmon.”

“Well, it was only fair. You killed Wisemon and ruined my surprise party.”

“Y-You killed Wormmon!” Ken repeated, this time with anger in his accusation.

“So did you, once,” the Dark Man replied, unperturbed. “The way I see it, we’re tied. If I see him again I’ll have a chance to take the lead.”

Through his anger, his fear and grief, Ken realized that there was still that hope – Wormmon would be reborn. Ken had found him once; he could find him again. For a moment he felt a strange sense of peace… but then he returned to reality. He was trapped in this room with this man – this thing. And what had happened to the rest of his friends? Were they here too? Had they even survived?

The Dark Man watched the changing subtleties of Ken’s expression with apparent interest, smiling all the while. Gradually Ken’s look settled on one of determination.

“Where are they?” he asked.

“They’re nearby. But that doesn’t make much of a difference right now, does it?”

“It does make a difference,” Ken said quietly. “They’re my friends.”

The Dark Man gave an exaggerated sigh before fixing Ken with a look of arch appraisal.

“What happened to you, Ichijouji-kun? You used to have so much potential. Didn’t need friends then! You had power. Absolute control over thousands. The Digimon Kaiser, master of darkness!”

“No…” Ken said. “I was too weak to stay who I really was.”

“The same old useless Ichijouji Ken. The Kaiser was better. As Kaiser you served a purpose – several purposes, actually, and you possessed that highest of human virtues… sadism. Though I think Sato Katsu has you beat in that regard.”

“Is that why he puts handcuffs on people who are already trapped?” Ken asked, with a grim smile.

The Dark Man flashed his teeth and took a long step forward. Caught off guard, Ken couldn’t react before the Dark Man had grabbed his shoulder and turned him half around. Ken’s ironic smile vanished; his face became a mask of horror. The Dark Man’s touch was poison. Intense cold shot through Ken’s shoulder, his heart began to race, his chest and head ached. Dimly he heard a click and the rattle of the handcuffs as they hit the floor. Then the Dark Man released him and stepped back, still smiling.

With a reflexive motion Ken brought his hands in front of him and grabbed hold of his arms. He stood there, quivering, and gradually the shock from the contact wore off, replaced by the more mundane pain in his wrists where the handcuffs had been throughout the previous night.

“Sato made those out of data,” the Dark Man said, looking down at the handcuffs. He grinned at Ken. “Too many eyebrows might be raised if he had looked to buy them in those sizes.”

Ken stared back at him, saying nothing. Coming into contact with the Dark Man had reminded him of how little humanity there was behind the mask, and he was still in the process of recovering.

“Come on, Ichijouji-kun! That’s funny!” The Dark Man shook his head. “I’ll never know how your species can be so entertaining and yet so lacking in a sense of humor.”

“What are you?” Ken managed.

“Sato-san’s assistant,” the Dark Man answered. “He was the one who called me from my world, to help him deal with the Chosen Children.”

“Sato… Katsu…” Ken murmured. He thought back to the unforgettable scene in the generator room when they had met the man. A willing servant of the powers of darkness, who thought nothing of torturing humans and Digimon to achieve his goals… Why? “Who is he?” Ken asked, raising his eyes to meet the ones that glittered in the Dark Man’s face. “Where did he come from?”

“ _Onryou,_ ” the Dark Man said slowly, smiling at the word. “A vengeful ghost. That’s what Sato is.”

“A ghost?” Ken muttered. In this surreal and terrible place he was unsure for a moment if the Dark Man was speaking metaphorically.

“But let’s talk about you, Ichijouji-kun. There’s so much else we can discuss. After all, why bother trying to understand Sato’s past when you can barely remember your own?”

Ken almost made a quick rejoinder, but paused to think. What did Sato’s history matter to him? There was little good that the knowledge would do him, especially now, as trapped as he was. The mention of his own past didn’t seem relevant at first, but then he thought of all his recent dreams, and how sharply they had probed his memories.

“What do you know about me?” Ken asked, now speaking deliberately. The Dark Man didn’t respond, but his smile broadened, and a chuckle came from low in his throat. A sudden unreasoning terror shot through Ken; the sound fell on his nerves like ice water. _I’ve taken the bait,_ he thought.

Before the recent nightmares had begun, Ken had more or less come to terms with his past, or at least the parts that he remembered. There was always an inner ache when thinking about Osamu and the Digimon Kaiser, but acceptance of what had gone before and working towards a better future had dulled it considerably. Now what? Would the Dark Man answer his question? What he heard might tear the old wounds open… or carve new ones. His dream of the previous night came back to him, with all its hints at forgotten pains and fears.

“Oh, where to begin…” the Dark Man said, cutting off Ken’s thoughts. “It’s not really fair to me to have to do all the work. You’d think with all that wheedling Archnemon and company about why you became the Kaiser, you’d have taken an interest in the rest of the story. Wormmon could probably have told you more. I would tell you to ask him, but…” He smiled brightly, and raised his hands palms upward in an exaggerated shrug.

Again Ken’s fear became submerged in anger. “Why… Why are you mocking me? What do you think is funny about this!?”

The Dark Man laughed. Ken stumbled back a step in the face of that laughter – there was something so powerful and awful about it. He thought the tears forming in his eyes would freeze in it.

“We live in funny worlds, Ichijouji-kun!” the Dark Man said when he had finished. “You humans! Just far enough evolved to imagine that you’re the crowning achievement of the universe. You take everything so seriously. You worry about life and death. You wonder what your purpose is. Oh, if only all of you could see things from my point of view! You were right about one thing as the Kaiser. They really were a bunch of insects. You just didn’t realize you were one of them.”

“Where are my friends?” Ken asked, trying to put force into the question in spite of the blackness that was settling on his soul.

“You mean the ones I didn’t exterminate?” Again he gave Ken an appraising look. “Why ask, Ichijouji-kun? Are you so lonely? I can be your friend.” As he spoke the Dark Man was changing, shrinking and then expanding, his features melting from those of one Chosen Child to another. Ken shut his eyes tightly, but it didn’t block out the nauseating flow from voice to voice. “I can be any one of your friends!”

Slowly, eyes still closed, Ken sat back down on the bench he’d awakened on, not trusting his legs to hold him up.

“Don’t like that?” The voice was the Dark Man’s own again. Warily, Ken opened his eyes, though he did not raise his head. There was silence for a moment.

“What will happen?” he asked at last.

“Oh, I don’t know quite what Sato has in mind, though I’m sure some of the Chosen Children will suffer very painful deaths. Others may live to envy them. But that’s yet to come. Let’s get back on topic. Think about what happened three years ago.”

Many chaotic thoughts were going through Ken’s mind as he sat there, but part of him couldn’t help obeying, and thinking back to August of 2000. His memories were so fragmentary. He had met Wormmon, an event he couldn’t recall in any detail. There had been other meetings as well, with people who remained vague, and battles that had been fought. But most of all his thoughts turned to one of the images from his latest dream. There was something – someone – very important, that his memory had lost somehow.

“How about a hint?” the Dark Man said. “A-ki-ya-ma…”

“Ryo-san,” Ken whispered. At first the name meant nothing to him. It had been an automatic response. In his mind he applied the name to the image of the boy in his dream, who he had recognized but not recognized. Yes, that was Ryo-san. Ken realized now that Akiyama Ryo had been in his dreams even before all of this, never in the foreground, but still there like some object from dim childhood packed away in a closet.

“So you do remember a little,” the Dark Man said.

_How could I forget?_ Ken wondered to himself. Though now he barely knew who Ryo was, the boy seemed to be an essential piece of Ken’s past. They had been together with Wormmon when—

“When I hurt my neck,” Ken said aloud.

He stood up with a jerk. At the same moment he heard shoes click on the stone floor, and saw that the Dark Man had taken a few steps nearer.

“Yes, the Dark Seed,” the man said. “And it was after that your memory started to go funny. Ryo was a mental liability. It was your brother that was the useful one. The Seed probably would have erased your memories of Wormmon too if he hadn’t been clinging to your leg every time you returned to the Digital World.”

“How do you know all this?” Ken asked. He braced himself where he stood, not wanting to give ground, but fearful that the Dark Man would come closer. “Did… did you do that to me?”

“Oh, no, that was all Millenniumon.” The name struck Ken with more force than Ryo’s had. Now he knew what that terrible shape in his dreams had been. “Sato only called for me very recently. But the Dark Seed did work to his benefit while it was active, and it may work for him again.”

“What—” Ken began, but his voice cut off abruptly as the Dark Man raised his hands. His tongue refused to move, and the rest of his body went equally rigid, arrested by a shadow of the discomfort he had felt when the handcuffs had been removed. The Dark Man did not need to lay hands on a person to make his power felt. When Ken’s body did jerk back into motion, it was not of his own volition. Stiffly he knelt. _This is a nightmare,_ he thought. It felt like one of those nightmares. It felt real. It was real, and there was no difference. He needed to scream, but was held silent.

Hands still outstretched, the Dark Man stepped closer and crouched down to look at Ken directly, face to face. Ken vaguely felt the hands hovering on either side of his head, but all his conscious focus was on the face so close to his. Like everyone who had met the Dark Man, Ken had noticed the paradox of his eyes, how they were at once so dark and so bright. Now he was looking into them, and it was like looking into the night sky – infinite blackness, shot through with stars.

He heard the Dark Man speaking in a low voice, sounding like an echo from outside the universe.

“It really could have been anyone, Ichijouji-kun. They told you the truth. It would have been Ryo, but instead it was you. You built the Dark Towers. Indirectly you created BlackWarGreymon, the tool without which Sato’s triumph might not have been possible. Instead of just anyone, it was _you_ , with all your kindness, and all your weakness. _Isn’t that funny?_ ”

The hands clamped down like the jaws of a vice. Lightning bolts of pain shot through Ken’s head as the Dark Man began to laugh. The laughter mounted higher and higher, it echoed and reechoed in that small stone room. Poison coursed through his limbs, and in the back of his neck there was a red-hot dagger of pain, but above everything else was the laugh that stabbed into his brain again and again with spear points of polar ice.

***

When the world swam back into view once more Ken found himself standing in the center of the room. His arms stretched above him, pulled at by the replaced handcuffs. Gradually his vision became clearer. There was the Dark Man, standing quite composed near the end of the room. An aperture in the shape of a doorway had opened in the wall, and a squat creature in a baggy rubber suit and gasmask stood within it.

“I think that’s enough for one session,” the Dark Man said. “I thought it might be a good time to introduce you to my Troopmon.” He gestured to the Digimon in the doorway, which stepped silently forward. From what might have been a deep pocket in his clothes he drew an object which Ken recognized coldly as the Digimon Kaiser’s whip.

“I’m leaving,” the Dark Man said to the Troopmon, handing the whip to it. “Get these two reacquainted.”

And with that he walked out of the room.

Sato met him in the dark corridor as the secret door slid shut again.

“Will you be wanting to see one of the others?” Sato asked, falling into pace beside him. “Inoue? Takaishi?”

“Too easy,” the Dark Man replied. “I’ve had fun with my warm-up. Now it’s time for a challenge.”

“Motomiya,” Sato said, nodding. “I’ve been at a bit of a loss concerning him.”

“Yes, I expected you might be, which is why I took certain steps recently that should facilitate things. Oh, I can work magic, Sato-kun. You’ll see when I get back.”

Sato gave him a curious glance and stopped walking. “You’re leaving? Now? Why?”

“To go and get what every great magician needs,” the Dark Man answered, not slackening his pace. “A beautiful assistant.”


	95. Musings

_“I felt myself on the edge of the world; peering over the rim into a fathomless chaos of eternal night. Through my terror ran curious reminiscences of Paradise Lost, and of Satan’s hideous climb through the unfashioned realms of darkness.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “Dagon”_

As soon as Hiraga woke that morning he remembered an unusually vivid dream, which was strange, because he didn’t get the sense that he had just awakened from it. He distinctly recalled Sato Katsu’s insistence that it had not been a dream. Did he believe that? He couldn’t help but think of the nightmares his employers had claimed to have induced in the general public. He’d taken pains to verify for himself that some people were having an unusually long string of bad nights, but had only half convinced himself that it was due to supernatural forces. It seemed crazy – but then, so did monsters from another world.

Looking at the vision rationally, though, he decided that for the moment it didn’t matter whether it was just a dream or not. It made sense. It was in his best interest to locate that cat Digimon, BlackTailmon, before the children he’d been trailing stumbled across her. He then debated whether he should go to Odaiba himself. If it had been a human he was looking for, he would have had a good idea of how to go about the search, but a Digimon that small and relatively inconspicuous would pose a problem.

He could recruit some help from those members of Sato’s organization still at the base. Sato had been monitoring the Digimon from the Digital World. Why couldn’t they be tracked from the real world itself? The question was whether he dared to call or go near the base now that it had been so nearly compromised. He thought on it for a while, as he ate a quick breakfast. Sato’s words from the dream came back to him – _You won’t like it when we find you._

He believed that, dream or not. If it ever became a question of crossing Sato and the other psychopaths or getting caught by the police, his instincts told him for the first time in his long career to choose arrest. _Wonder what Sato would think about that if he read my mind,_ he thought, smiling to ward off a shiver. Alright. He would return to the base, and start looking for that cat.

***

Anubimon moved silently down the lightless hallway, listening intently. As far as he knew, the Dark Man was still seeing to one of the Chosen Children. If that was true, he could make the most of this chance to liberate one of the others, but he’d had enough evidence of the Dark Man’s abilities to know that there was no guarantee he wouldn’t be interrupted. The Dark One’s vision was far reaching, and dependent on neither eyes nor light.

But at the moment the problem was finding out where the imprisoned children were being kept. Though he had served as warden of the Dark Area for years beyond counting, Anubimon had never before entered it, and so had never before truly appreciated how difficult it was to navigate. He’d seen enough of this strange monastery to know that the stone walls were not always as solid as they appeared, and he had suspicions that they didn’t remain immobile either.

Sato and the Dark One had kept him ignorant of the Chosen Children’s locations, so now he was forced to wander through the dark in the slim hope of finding and freeing them. He came to an intersection and paused a moment. As at every previous intersection he had found, the probable futility of his goal was brought back to him. He drew a slow, deep breath, and let it out again. Closing his eyes and placing a hand against one of the walls, he stood there, listening, feeling for any vibration of the air or stone that might indicate the presence of life in this world of death.

There was no sound. No movement. But he did seem to feel something. Maybe it was only his imagination, but, regardless, it did not reassure him. Despite his constant nearness to the source of darkness, Anubimon drew his power from light. It seemed to him now that his perceptions were incomplete, as if there were a power here that impaired his faculties. Under this vague impression the silence took on a meaning. He could almost imagine the souls he had condemned to this world gathered in the air around him, deadening the sound and the sensation of everything but the darkness and the inaudible whispers they filled it with.

Hopelessness threatened to rise up within him, but he fought it down. _No,_ he told himself. _That’s the easy way, and you’ve taken it too often lately. Those children, and the Digital World itself, are counting on you to persevere. If you cannot fulfill this duty, after standing idle for so long, you are not fit to exist._

He opened his eyes, and chose a corridor at random. But he had not taken more than a few steps before he heard the click of shoes advancing to meet him. Peering into the near blackness he saw two eyes and a smile materialize, but it was no imagined ghost. The Dark Man stood before him.

“I should put a leash on you,” the Dark Man said, his feigned irritation failing to hide the snicker in his voice. “We’re going out. It means cutting your expedition short, but I have somewhere to be, and I’m not letting you cavort around here while I’m gone.”

Anubimon stared at him for a minute, not responding. All his hatred for the Dark One returned to him. But in the end, he knew that a show of resistance was not the answer. He was no use to the Chosen Children if the Dark One obliterated him.

“Very well,” he said at last. “Lead on.”

***

In a room of vast dimensions, the walls of which were hung with arabesque tapestries of red and violet, and the stone floor of which was enlivened by rich carpets of the same colors, five gigantic braziers burned. The flames that blazed in the high bowls were not constant in their hue, changing sometimes from angry red to deathly blue or purple, filling the room with oppressive heat and what just barely deserved to be called light. They stood atop a pattern of the carpeting, forming the five points of a star. On a dais raised just off the floor at one end of the room Demon stood, looming over the shadowy scene. It looked as if Satan himself had come to attend some unholy ritual. And, essentially, that was the case.

Demon spoke low in an unintelligible language. The words he growled did not fade away afterwards, but instead reverberated about the room, repeating and joining with new sounds introduced into the air by the Demon Lord. They muttered in the farthest corners, but for the most part the verbal discord was focused about the central space bounded by the pentagram, where the carpet had the pattern of a large, staring eye. Together with the outline of the star this was the Elder Sign, the crest of darkness. And like Wisemon, Demon intended to use it to open the path to another world.

By now he had no remaining doubts that something was causing the barriers between the Dark World and the worlds of light to weaken. The reason for it mattered little at the moment. Surely his visitor of the other day had something to do with it. Before long, Demon hoped to see how things stood for himself. At the moment he might have the satisfaction of incinerating Dagomon’s minions, but he wouldn’t get any useful information out of them, and his small store of patience was exhausted.

Demon had the ability to travel between the human world and the Digital World with ease. Gallingly, however, he could not usually break through to them from his place of exile. This current ritual and the weakness of the dimensional barriers would help to solve that problem. If he couldn’t open the Dark Gate on this attempt, perhaps he could on the next. He was tired of waiting. He was more than ready to leave this prison and resume his hunt for the Dark Seed.

It was in search of the Seed that he had come to this region of space-time. Legends concerning the Dark Seeds and their properties had existed since time immemorial, though for the most part only those Digimon steeped in the power of darkness had ever heard of them. Their actual existence was insisted upon by some and doubted by others, but when Demon had heard the rumors concerning Millenniumon and his Dark Seed, he had immediately traced them to their source. It did not take long to confirm their truth, and since then he had devoted all his energy to securing the Seed for himself. If legend told correctly, and he had reason to believe that it did, the Dark Seeds were a source of incredible power.

Power was what Demon had spent all his existence in search of. Even before he had been cast down and given the hideous form now half hidden by his mantle, he had sought ever greater power and glory. As an angel of light he had sought to supersede God itself. Now perhaps true godhood was beyond him, but if that were so then he would become a god of darkness. He would wax ever greater, and exact his revenge. All who stood in his way he would burn into nothingness. No matter how much time passed, the fury born of his long ago defeat was ever with him – and it had a power all its own.

Not even the Chosen Children had been able to defeat him. They had forced him into a standstill, but before long he would be ready to break that impasse. He would not hold back this time. Nor would he hold back on any who tried to keep him from his purpose. Dagomon was plotting something, but Demon would not indulge the Priest of the Deep as he had Archnemon a year ago. If the Dark Man that had visited him proved an annoyance, he too would be wiped out of existence.

The ritual neared its culmination. There was a shimmering in the air over the great eye. Dimly, for a moment, Demon could discern a scene from the Digital World. But then it faded, and he ended his litany with a curse in the unknown language that shook the fabric of the darkness around him and sent the ghosts of damned Digimon into panic flight.

“Soon,” he growled, as the flames in the braziers slowly took on a more natural appearance.

Patience, like most virtues, was not a strength Demon placed much value on. In addition to his desire to obtain the Dark Seed, he was drawn to the worlds of light by the prospect of exacting vengeance on those Chosen Children that had so inconvenienced him. When he had told them on that winter night that he would leave their world once he had the Seeds, he had not exactly been lying. Vengeance was his top priority, and it was not in the human world that he would find the implacable enemies that had cast him into the World of Darkness. The human world was not his concern at the moment. Afterward, perhaps, he would turn his attention to it.

Things had changed. The Chosen Children’s resistance had cost him time and effort, and for that they would pay with their lives. He would exterminate them all, using his own power. There was a reason he had taken so few of his army of followers into the human world back then. Their strength should have been great enough for any normal enemy, of course, but aside from that there was Demon’s personal approach to things. He would not share the fierce joy of killing with a multitude of subordinates.

He wondered whether it would be possible to obtain the Dark Seed before he was done destroying the Chosen Children. Wielding its energies against them would be a good test of its power. The original Seed was his primary goal, the one in Ichijouji Ken, but there were also the copies made by Vamdemon’s servants to consider. Once the Chosen Children were taken care of, the hosts of the copies would be easy prey. Vamdemon had at least been useful in that one regard. Demon had several methods for removing the Dark Seeds ready to try, but if he didn’t get it right the first time or two, he’d have plenty of test subjects.

He smiled deep within the blackness of his hood as he made his way to the throne room. All those Dark Seeds… All that power… Once it was added to his current strength, nothing would be able to oppose him. And suppose that he managed to find other Dark Seeds. He wondered where the one in Ichijouji Ken had come from. Had Millenniumon truly created it, or only found it? Demon’s agents had not yet been able to track down whatever might be left of Millenniumon’s data, but they had not stopped searching. His secrets could very well be as great a prize as the Dark Seed itself. Maybe Demon would learn something in the process of ripping the Seed from Ichijouji Ken’s body.

He now stood gazing out of the throne room’s arches at the lightless horizon, as he had when his unexpected visitor had arrived and alerted him to the coming fulfillment of his terrible ambitions. But his icy blue eyes saw beyond the Dark Area, to all the myriad worlds of light, the worlds so soon to be set ablaze by the hellfire of his final vengeance.


	96. Sinking

_“I was engulfed by a piteous lethargic fear of some ineluctable doom which would be, I felt, the completed hate of the peering stars and of the black enormous waves that hoped to clasp my bones within them – the vengeance of all the indifferent, horrendous majesty of the night ocean.” – R. H. Barlow, “The Night Ocean”_

A number of messages went from D-Terminal to D-Terminal that morning. But none were sent to the six missing devices, and no more were received from them. The suspense that the six Chosen Children had been in regarding their younger friends was now total. Takeru, Hikari, and the others had vanished entirely, with no word from the enemy to even suggest that they still existed.

There was no general assembly. Taichi had sent Koshiro a message asking if there was any further news, prompting Koshiro to send messages to all his friends telling them that, although there were no updates yet, he intended to meet with Gennai in the hope of clearing up some questions. Jou offered to join him, but Taichi was set on looking for BlackTailmon, and began his search without delay.

All six of the teens checked in with each of the others. Typing messages gave them something to do, but more than that it felt necessary, when so much was in doubt, to give assurance that they were alright. The night had passed without any new tragedy befalling them or the people they knew. It was small comfort, but it was something.

***

Hikari knelt, motionless, with her head drooping forward. The stone floor was cold against her shins, but she barely noticed. She had remained that way for an unknown length of time, unable to see her surroundings and caring nothing for them. She’d woken up from her exhausting dream to find that her legs – and most other parts of her body – really were aching, doubtless because of the unforgiving surface she had spent the night on. Her hands were cuffed behind her back, securing her to a slender column that apparently went from floor to ceiling. But none of that mattered.

On an intellectual level, she knew that there were things her captors could do to hurt her even further, but she couldn’t really believe it with her heart. Tailmon was dead. The other Digimon were dead also, and for all she knew her human friends might be as well. If not… then she didn’t want to think about what might happen to them. But she did think about it. She couldn’t help it. She sat where she was in a hell of grief and speculation, time measured only by the fall of a few intermittent tears.

Then, finally, there was a change. She didn’t hear anything, but some movement of the air must have told her she was no longer alone. Something was standing behind her. For the first time since waking up, the fear she felt became fear on her own account. Slowly, unsteadily, she stood, trying to prevent the handcuffs from clinking against the column. She had no idea who the intruder was. She thought back to her dream and the black monstrosities she had so desperately fled from. Panic rose within her. _Not like this,_ she thought. _Please, not like this…_

“Hello, Yagami-san.”

She knew that voice. She’d heard it first in her nightmares – if only this was a nightmare! But she knew it wasn’t. She had met Sato Katsu in person just before the battle that had taken Tailmon’s life, and now he was here in the room with her. She didn’t know why, but he had always seemed to take a greater interest in her than in the other Chosen Children. Maybe it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he would come to see her himself before giving her over to the dark powers he worked for.

Hikari said nothing, unsure of what would happen. Should she turn and face him? As she stood there, waiting, it seemed that the darkness lessened, though without a source of illumination. She could make out the dark stone walls of the room. They reminded her uncomfortably of the black room she’d been unable to enter in the underground base. Was that where she was? In her grief and fear for the others’ safety it hadn’t occurred to her to wonder.

Sato’s shoes clicked on the stone as he approached. Still he said nothing. Hikari’s nerves were fraying under suspense – before long she would have to try to turn and face him. But before she determined to make the effort he had come up behind her, and with an unpleasant thrill she felt him lay his hands on her shoulders. Startled by the contact, she made an automatic effort to squirm out of his grip. He let go… then one of his hands fastened on her shoulder near the neck and pushed her roughly forward. Her arms fully extended, the chain of the handcuffs pulled taut against the column.

“I don’t think there’s any more need for these,” Sato said, his voice calm and cold as ever despite his violence. With his free hand he unlocked the cuffs. Once the second bracelet was off Hikari managed to pull away from him again and, putting a meter or so between them, turned to face him, her feet prepared to flee despite her being able to see that the room had no visible exit.

He stepped away from the column and stood still, regarding her. It was the first time she had seen him up close. She might have noticed that his height was perhaps a little above average, or that he was dressed in nondescript but well-made clothing of a uniform dark gray color that suited his surroundings, but what held her attention was his face. It was pale and gaunt, the clean-shaven face of an ascetic, framed by dark hair that was uncombed and without style. His gaze was cold and expressionless. It gave no indication of what he was thinking, but the longer his eyes examined her, the colder she felt inside.

“So the day has come,” he said at last, when she had begun working up the courage to break the silence herself. “As on the night we met, I welcome you back. For the last time.” And he gave her what for other people would have been a smile – a silent snarl that transformed the priestly graveness of his normal expression into the face of a predatory beast whose kill is imminent. The smile was gone in another moment, though it did not entirely leave his eyes.

In the meantime she had realized what his words meant, and looked at the black walls of her prison with a mounting terror. She must have suspected it from the first, but this sudden confirmation…

“I… I’m here…” she said. “In this world…!”

“Yes, it’s true,” Sato said. “Your friends are elsewhere in this building, in other cells.”

“Takeru-kun and the others?” she said.

“Yes, all as helpless as you yourself, of course. You remember, don’t you? I can tell by looking at your face.”

“T-Tailmon…” she stuttered, the tears ready to flow back into her eyes. She squeezed them tight, as if it would help, and tried to reason with herself. Tailmon might return someday. Digimon always did, didn’t they? _No,_ she thought, seeing Wizarmon’s transparent body fade in her mind’s eye. _Not always._

Her thoughts turned to the others. It was a relief to know that they were still alive, but after seeing the generator room and what the bat-like Digimon had done to Takeru, she trembled at what her friends might be put through. If she could do something for them… if she could sacrifice herself to prevent their suffering as when she had turned herself over to Vamdemon… But she saw that was impossible. She and they were already at Sato Katsu’s mercy, and mercy was the last thing she expected from him.

“What a burden it is to have a friend’s best interest at heart,” Sato said, as if he read her thoughts. Hikari opened her eyes and looked at him. “That’s all you ever think about, isn’t it? You are a rarity in many ways, Yagami-san.”

He began walking towards her. Instinctively she backed away, slowly, until she felt the wall at her back and had to stop. Sato stopped also. Again his searching gaze went over her.

“It is because of your special properties that He took an interest in you.”

“He…” Hikari whispered.

“Yes. The god I serve. The High Priest of Darkness. Dagomon.”

There it was. Finally the name had been spoken. Hikari had had her suspicions for a long time – ever since all this had started – but here was the confirmation. The power behind Sato was one with the ruler of the Dark Ocean and the god of its inhabitants, the faceless Thing that had come to signify all her fears and shortcomings.

A mist was over her vision. Or was there really fog leaking into this airtight room? She felt a coldness like seawater about her feet, and her legs began to tremble. She was growing faint; the distant surge of waves was in her ears.

Then a sudden pain brought everything back into focus. She realized that Sato had stepped forward and grabbed her by the arm, digging his fingers into the flesh. She gasped a little at the way it hurt, but at least the room was again clear of mist, and the sensations of that dark ocean had vanished.

“Don’t start sinking just yet,” Sato said, looking down at her. “I’ve waited a long while to have this conversation.”

She returned his gaze. His eyes both drew and terrified her. What their color was she couldn’t have said; the dark atmosphere of this world had drained their color to the point that she could only tell that they were as dark and cold and empty as everything else about him. _He’s insane,_ she thought. _Is he really human?_ She thought of the things that had masqueraded as Hangyomon, and her stomach turned.

“What do you want?” she managed, her voice sounding so small that she wasn’t sure he would hear it.

“What I want doesn’t really matter,” he said. “My orders are to destroy the Chosen Children by wringing from them as much pain as they are capable of suffering. It has been a long process, but I assure you that this is only the beginning.”

“Why?” Hikari asked. “Why are you doing this to us?”

“To bring about the final triumph of Darkness,” he answered, the first trace of emotion entering his voice as fanatical exultation. “Long have we waited. Too long. Ia! Kutouruu futagun!”

“‘No’…?” she repeated, mistaking his exclamation for Japanese.

“‘Ia,’” he corrected her. “A word used by the organization I am a part of to give praise to the High Priest.” His terrible smile returned. Hikari looked to the floor to avoid it. “Before long, you, the Chosen Children, will praise him too… with your tears, your screams in the darkness.”

With a quick motion he grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back, forcing her to look at him once more. Another cry of pain escaped her. “That’s a good start. Tell me, Yagami-san,” Sato continued, releasing her hair and arm, “if I gave you the chance to forsake your friends, to save your body and mind from my master and aid the dark power in its conquest of all worlds, would you take it?”

“No,” Hikari answered without hesitation. Her indignation at the suggestion gave her courage, and she went on. “I could never help you. You’re the worst person I’ve ever met. All those poor Digimon… All you’ve done to my friends… I…I can’t understand.”

“I knew that would be your answer, and I’m glad that you would refuse,” Sato said, unmoved. “Even if you begged to join me and my master, I would not spare you from what is in store for you. However, I will use you to illustrate a truth that you and your friends have never suspected. The true Darkness is not something that can be fought. In the end, you will be its ally, or you will be its slave.”

Under normal circumstances, beneath the sun or the electric lights of Odaiba, the assertion would have only been grotesque, even laughable. But spoken here, in the unrelenting gloom of the Dark World, with Sato Katsu’s cold eyes fixed on her, Hikari could almost believe it to be true. She said nothing, only shook her head slightly as a feeble show of resistance. The mistiness threatened to return to the room. She didn’t look down, not just to avoid further violence, but because she half expected to see a film of gray water rushing over the floor towards her shoes.

“The time is coming, Yagami-san. Now that we have you and your friends, we may not need Taichi-san and the others. Even if they do not fall to the Digimon that have already been allowed to enter your world, they will still succumb to the darkness that has yet to be unleashed.”

Hikari tried to concentrate in spite of the black tides rumbling in her mind. She had to keep fighting, like her beloved brother was, even in this terrible place.

“Isn’t our world your world?” she asked Sato. “Why would you want to let the dark power into the Real World?”

“Maybe once I wouldn’t have, but long ago I learned the lesson that I’m going to teach you and the other Chosen Children.” He took a step closer. Hikari closed her eyes as he slowly lifted a hand and brushed the lock of hair from one side of her face. She was trembling now. In the blackness behind her eyelids she thought she could detect movement, like the lapping of waves.

“I’ve waited a long time for this,” Sato said. He seized her by both arms, pressing into her skin with his fingernails, slamming her back against the wall. She tried to break free but he pulled and twisted and shook her. Again she cried out. “To clutch you, to watch you writhe… From the moment I heard your name, knew your purpose, what you represented. Here, finally, was something tangible, something I could punish, for every false hope, and every broken promise.”

“I – I don’t—” Hikari choked out through her tears.

“You don’t understand? Of course not. But I will make you understand. I will _make_ you!”

Again he threw her against the wall, then allowed her to slump halfway to the floor. She would have crumpled entirely, but the water was there, she knew it was. It was up to her ankles. The sound of the waves was insistent, but there was a more terrible sound behind it – what must be the voice of Darkness itself. She opened her eyes, but could see very little. The gloom seemed to have deepened tenfold. Sato held her where she was. He leaned forward to whisper in her ear.

“I know what you’re feeling. Even so early, you think you can’t possibly take any more. Maybe you can’t. We’ll find out. When they take you…”

“Please…” she whispered. “Stop…”

“Yes, you’ll say something like that, but louder – shriller. And just as now, your pleas will be in vain. But this is nothing. Think of it… when you finally stand before _Him…_ ”

The water was rising… still rising. She couldn’t see at all. Without warning Sato released her, and she nearly fell. The wall was still at her back. She turned and clung to it, left alone in the blackness. The waves pounded in her brain.

“No… Don’t… Please… _No!_ ”

Sato Katsu heard the echoes of her scream from where he stood out in the corridor. He smiled, hearing what the girl in the empty room didn’t realize she was saying.

“Ia!” he repeated in a feverish whisper. “Ia!”


	97. Talking to Gennai

_“I repeat to you, gentlemen, that your inquisition is fruitless…Everything that I can remember, I have told with perfect candour. Nothing has been distorted or concealed, and if anything remains vague, it is only because of the dark cloud which has come over my mind – that cloud and the nebulous nature of the horrors which brought it upon me.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Statement of Randolph Carter”_

From the time Jou walked into his room, leaving Gomamon in the dinette with Mrs. Izumi, Koshiro wasted no time in opening the gate for Gennai. A shimmering glow flooded the room from the laptop, and when it faded the visitor stood before them in the form they had last met him in, a young man robed in white.

“Hello, Koshiro, Jou,” he said, nodding to them each in turn. “It’s good to see you again, but I wish the circumstances were better.”

“I’m sure we all do, Gennai-san,” Koshiro answered.

“There’s still no news about the others, is there?” Jou asked.

“I’m afraid not,” Gennai said. “We haven’t been able yet to confirm what world they might be in.”

“It’s still possible that we may find them in this world,” Koshiro said, “but there’s a chance that they’ve been taken to that other world that Hikari-san once entered.” Gennai nodded. “If that were the case,” Koshiro continued, “would there be any way to look for or follow them?”

“I’m afraid not,” Gennai answered. “That is,” he corrected himself, “no way that we know of. Even the power of the Holy Beasts is very limited in the World of Darkness. We will work on a solution, but hopefully they have returned to the Real World.”

“Even then, they could be anywhere,” Jou observed. “There’s a good chance they might have been moved out of Tokyo, since we didn’t find them at the enemy’s hideout last night. And those Digimon that are still out there. They won’t make it any easier on us.”

“There’s a possibility that they might,” Koshiro said. “Something as large and strange-looking as the monster that attacked Ugaki Chiho-san and the others must have a place to stay during the daytime. If we could track it down…” He looked to Gennai. “That’s something that’s been puzzling me,” he said. “Usually when a powerful Digimon appears in the human world they can be detected by the way they interfere with electronic equipment, but this time there haven’t been any reports of anything like that. Can you explain it, Gennai-san?”

“I can’t say for certain,” Gennai replied. “Possibly the enemy has found a way to keep their energies in check. We still have little idea what they might be capable of, or how they are able to do what they’ve done.”

“Like those dreams,” Jou said. “They aren’t normal. They feel too real, different from other dreams.”

Gennai only nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“Actually, Gennai-san,” Koshiro said, looking thoughtful in turn, “A dream I had last night is part of the reason I requested this meeting.” He paused, frowning into space. “I don’t know if it means anything, but all of these dreams seem to have connections to our past experiences, and… Well, anyway, you were in that dream, Gennai-san, and you said that I haven’t been asking the right questions. Does that mean anything to you?”

Now Gennai frowned in thought. “…No,” he said at last.

“In the dream we talked about Ichijouji-kun, and Millenniumon,” Koshiro persisted.

There was another pause, but then Gennai smiled ruefully. “I see… We’re very selfish, aren’t we?” he said, almost as if to himself.

“G-Gennai-san?”

Jou turned to look at Koshiro, surprised by the change in his voice. He could see that his friend had gone pale. “Koshiro? Is something wrong?” he asked.

“I…” Koshiro began, still looking at Gennai, whose smile had been replaced by a look of concern. “I’m awake,” Koshiro whispered to himself. “I remember how I got here. I… live here.”

“What’s wrong, Koshiro?” Gennai asked.

“I’m sorry, Gennai-san, Jou-san,” Koshiro said. “It’s only that… you just said something you said in the dream. I thought… that maybe I was dreaming now.”

Jou felt a chill run through him. Now that the idea had occurred to him, he suddenly had to face the same doubts.

“Something that was said in your dream…” Gennai said, thoughtfully. “That’s a thought I’ve been carrying around for a long time, but I’ve never said it before. If the enemy is producing these dreams, how were they able to know what has been on my mind?”

Koshiro, who was beginning to recover from his shock, latched on to this new problem. He composed himself and said, “It seems like it could be a psychic phenomenon. Now that I think about it, there have been things in these dreams that should have only been known to ourselves. At first my theory was that the dreams’ content was drawn from our subconscious, like normal dreams, but then the same people appeared to different dreamers, and if a dream has let me know Gennai-san’s thoughts…” He trailed off and looked at Gennai.

“I have heard of some Digimon with abilities that might be called psychic in the Real World,” Gennai said. “There could be a Digimon with psychic abilities on the enemy’s side. It might explain the dreams, but the psychic power needed would be incredible.”

“Could it be more than one?” Jou asked. “Or, if those people who show up in the dreams really exist, maybe they’re psychic humans?”

“Either might be a possibility,” Gennai said.

For a moment there was silence as the three pondered. Koshiro broke it.

“Gennai-san, do you remember when we talked about what happened in Pinocchimon’s forest, when an unknown intelligence used Hikari-san to stop the battle between WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon?”

Gennai nodded.

“I always wondered why Hikari-san was the only person that could communicate with that intelligence. It said that only she had been able to hear it. And Taichi-san told me that even before we went to summer camp, Hikari-san had been able to see the Digimon in the human world. I thought that maybe she was able to sense these things because of her affinity with the power of light, but now I’m wondering if she also might have psychic abilities.”

“That… does actually make sense,” Jou said.

“She was also the first of our group to be drawn into that dark other world, even without the Dark Seed,” Koshiro continued. “I don’t know if there’s a connection.” He frowned. “I’m sorry,” he said. “This isn’t really helping. Maybe I really don’t ask the right questions.”

“We don’t have any way of knowing, do we?” Jou asked. “We can’t tell what information will be useful in the end.”

“Yes, but I wish I knew what I needed to understand,” Koshiro said in a low voice. “It’s more important now than ever.” He was thinking back to his first adventure in the Digital World. Absorbed in his questions and theories, there had been times when he had ignored more pressing issues and neglected his friends. Now he couldn’t afford to lose sight of what mattered. What good was knowledge if it couldn’t be used to help people?

“Any knowledge may help us eventually,” Gennai said. “We must know the enemy in order to fight it.”

“Unfortunately, right now, we don’t even know who the enemy is,” Jou said. “Do you have any idea, Gennai-san?”

“All I have are guesses,” Gennai answered. “The situation is unlike any I’ve seen before. An enemy that attacks through dreams is possible in the Digital World, but from what information we can gather this seems to be a global phenomenon. That’s unusual.”

“Yes, I’ve gotten emails from Chosen Children in other countries,” Koshiro said. “They’re having the dreams as well.” There was a long moment of silence before he spoke again. “And there’s something else that’s been bothering me. There’s no doubt now that there are humans working with the enemy Digimon.”

“Those photos,” Jou agreed grimly, remembering the pictures of the Chosen Children that they’d seen amid the horrors of Lilithmon’s lair.

“The evidence points to a relatively large organization,” Koshiro continued. “Could they have come into contact with Digimon last December?”

“But to put all this in motion in less than a year…” Jou murmured, shaking his head.

“It does seem rather fast,” Gennai said. “I have a feeling that it may go farther back than that. Maybe this group has existed for a long time, waiting until the Digital World’s defenses – and your world’s – were at their weakest.” His mouth compressed into a line and a hard look came into his eyes. “We should have been better prepared. The number of Chosen Children kept growing, but we didn’t make any effort to make sure they were ready for battle.”

“Shuu-niisan’s partner still hasn’t reached Child level,” Jou said, nervously running a hand through his hair.

“If we get through this,” Gennai said, “we’ll have to make sure that nothing else falls through the cracks.”

“The Digimon Kaiser!” Koshiro exclaimed, connecting Gennai’s words to his earlier thoughts and the previous night’s dream. He looked at Gennai and asked, a little apologetically, “You did know, didn’t you? That Ichijouji-kun was the Kaiser?”

“Yes,” Gennai answered. “We did.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Jou asked.

“We didn’t think it would do any good,” Gennai said. “The Chosen Children had never fought a human before. If they knew the Kaiser’s identity, they could have confronted him in this world, but it wouldn’t have helped. Like with the children implanted with the Dark Seed copies. The best we could hope for was that a military defeat in the Digital World would bring Ken back to his senses. It was a risk we had to take, but I’m sorry all the same.”

“I can understand…” Koshiro murmured, trailing off doubtfully.

“It’s alright to ask,” Gennai said, a trace of a smile returning to his face. “There are a few other things that I’ve kept from you. Most of the story you already know, but there are other things. Wallace, for example.”

“The American Chosen Child?” Koshiro asked.

“Yes. He didn’t receive his Digivice after the 1999 incident, as the others did. We gave it to him – my fellow Agents and I – in 1995.”

“You mean, before we got ours?” Koshiro said, surprised. “That was the year we first saw the Digimon at Hikarigaoka.”

“But why?” Jou asked.

“It was a test,” Gennai answered. “His was the first Digivice ever made. Before the Chosen Children faced the Dark Masters it was necessary to make sure that their Digivices would work properly. Watching from the Digital World, we were able to verify that it allowed his partners to evolve to the Baby II level. Unfortunately, it was not long afterward that the Dark Masters discovered us.”

“Do you know what happened to his partner?” Koshiro asked.

“No,” Gennai said. “That was after I had gone into hiding. I didn’t have the resources to continue the test, or even to send the other Digivices to the human world. I could only trust that the powers guarding the Digital World would do so when the time was right.”

Koshiro would have taken up the conversation, asking about those powers, but was stopped by Gennai’s expression. In the process of having regained the appearance of youth, Gennai’s face had lost much of its former inscrutability. It was clear now that he was hesitating. There was something else he wanted to say. Jou must have seen it too, because there was silence until Gennai made up his mind to speak.

“But it wasn’t Wallace that I was going to talk to you about,” he said at last. “You remember the story of the Chosen Children that came before you?”

They nodded, and he continued.

“I’ve been wondering about what happened to them, and why they didn’t resurface after 1999. It may be that the enemy we are now facing learned of the Digital World through contact with those Chosen Children. They may be prisoners of the group, or they may be dead.”

“It could be…” Koshiro said.

“That would be awful,” Jou said, with a sickened grimace. “They had to have just been kids, like we were.”

“Yes, but I think it could easily be true,” Gennai said. “It would explain things. Not entirely, but it fits in the known timeline… That’s what I felt I should tell you.”

A long silence followed. There didn’t seem to be much left to say. They could speculate, Gennai could reveal his secrets, but in the end the terrible fact remained – none of them knew the truth. Koshiro’s memory of his dream mocked him. Maybe now he was asking the right questions, but there were no answers coming.


	98. The Experiment

_“There was the choice of death with its direst physical agonies, or death with its most hideous moral horrors. I had been reserved for the latter. By long suffering my nerves had been unstrung, until I trembled at the sound of my own voice, and had become in every respect a fitting subject for the species of torture which awaited me.” – Edgar Allan Poe, “The Pit and the Pendulum”_

There were several other interviews Sato Katsu had planned that day, but before moving on to the next he took the time to set something else up for Inoue Miyako. Earlier in the day – or rather, what in the human world and Digital World was day – the Dark Man had taken the time to introduce him to those Digimon gathered for the purpose of attending to the captured Chosen Children. Sato had a variety of escalating rigors planned for each of his prisoners, but Inoue was the first to which Sato would delegate his minions. It was only fitting. She was simple. She was, as the Dark Man had put it, “too easy,” and for this reason she didn’t interest Sato the way the others did. He would wait to deal personally with her.

He had wanted to see Yagami Hikari first. Her importance was greater than that of the others, from a symbolic standpoint. She was Light’s avatar, and it was natural that the hatred of Sato and the other creatures of Darkness should center on her. But now Sato’s first session with her was over, and his thoughts turned to the other Chosen Child he had been developing a special interest in.

Earlier, Sato had been going through the security recordings – perfectly lucid in spite of the pitch blackness of the cells – to watch and note each child’s response upon waking up and realizing what had happened. He’d noticed something interesting about Takaishi Takeru’s behavior. If there was any difference between Takaishi’s awakening and those of the other Chosen Children, it was that his grief over the loss of his partner Digimon was even more demonstrative, more violent, than the others’. This was unexpected – after all, he had lost and regained Patamon before, and should have had a stronger grasp on the fact that a Digimon’s death was not necessarily permanent. When Sato had made a remark to the Dark Man about it, the other gave a characteristic shrug.

“He’s afraid,” the Dark Man had said. “He may be more afraid than any of the others. Humans tend to soak up whatever bad experiences they have when they’re young, and he was the youngest of them all at the time. So he’s got scars, and they keep itching. The fear never left, he just learned how to cover it up better.” The Dark Man had chuckled, and said in a low voice, as if to himself, “Then there’s the hatred that not even he knows is hidden.”

Sato ran that conversation through his head now, as he walked through the darkness of the hallway adjoining Takaishi’s cell. He also thought back to the dreams that he and the boy had shared over the previous nights. His mental outline of the coming meeting rapidly began to flesh itself out.

***

It had taken a long time for Takeru to achieve the composure needed to explore his prison. For a while the loss of Patamon, like the recurrence of a terrible nightmare, had stripped him of everything but horrified grief. But after long minutes the shock of awakening wore off, and he had begun to notice his physical condition. His body hurt, though not with the same intensity as his heart. Besides the aches caused by lying on a hard stone floor, and the chafing of his wrists from the handcuffs, there were other physical pains.

The worst was probably in his right leg, where the Pipismon had made a number of cuts with the blade on its tail. He could just barely reach them, and shuddered a little at the feel of the crusted blood, possibly mixed with sand from the desert winds. One of his hands had also been cut, and the blade had cut as well through the fabric of one sleeve and into the skin of his arm. Thankfully all of the wounds seemed to be superficial, and he found that he could still walk, though with great discomfort. What he was more worried about was the status of his friends.

He was sure – mostly sure – that they were still alive, since he himself was. Why had they all been allowed to live? What use could they be to the enemy? Would they be used as part of a plot to ensnare his brother and the other older Chosen Children? It was possible, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was some other reason as well. What it might be he didn’t know. The Chosen Children’s previous enemies had focused on destroying rather than capturing them.

At least, with the exception of Pinocchimon. Takeru recalled the dream of the Dark Master’s mansion – his introduction, as it were, to Sato Katsu. _“Come on, Takaishi-san. Let’s play.”_ Pinocchimon’s game had been a dangerous one, but there had still been a spirit of twisted fun behind it. Any game played with Sato would be deadly serious. Its possibilities made Takeru’s skin crawl. Sato claimed to have no compunction against doing to humans what he had done to the Digimon in those cylinders, and Takeru believed him. The prospect of what Takeru himself would face was sickening enough. But that his friends were in the same position…

That was the thought that had brought him off the floor. He couldn’t sit there feeling sorry for himself and Patamon when there was still a chance that he might be able to help them. He knew, of course, that escape was not at all likely. The room was pitch black, and any exit he did manage to find was sure to be blocked off. It occurred to him that there might also be traps in this place for him to stumble into. He couldn’t come up with a reason for them, but he’d seen too much of his captors’ inventive cruelty to rule out the possibility.

It was just as well that he couldn’t walk with ease. A mixture of discomfort and caution kept his pace slow as he began to explore his prison. Even so, it didn’t take long to get a general idea. Finding a wall with one foot and working his way along it, he decided that the room was roughly in the shape of a square, with no real variation in its smooth stone floor and walls. The handcuffs prevented him from being able to determine how high the ceiling was, and he didn’t really care. Instead he was disturbed by the fact that, as far as he could tell, the room had no doors or windows. Had he missed them somehow? In his state of mind he hadn’t been very methodical. Or had he not found them because they didn’t exist? What if this wasn’t a cell – but a tomb?

Despite the space around him, a crushing claustrophobia fell on him. He moved back to the wall, stiffly but quickly. He put his back to it and felt along it with his hands. Unbroken stone everywhere. He pushed against it in several places. Minutes passed, and panic built. Had he been around the whole room yet? He didn’t know. He threw himself against an unyielding wall and staggered back, feeling sick and dizzy. The cuts, the fear, the grief, hunger, and thirst had left him weaker than he had realized. He sank to a sitting position and remained there, breathing heavily.

Minutes passed, then hours. How many he would never be certain. Life dissolved into a nightmare where time had little meaning. He had no clear memory afterwards of what went through his head and what he might have done in that lightless eternity. In this place there was no keeping track of tears, and wild guesses, and creeping fears, and stumbling steps in the dark.

The first appreciable change finally came when Takeru realized that he was able to see the walls and floor of the room. He wondered if his eyes were adjusting to the darkness, then rejected the idea. But he really could see again, which was strange, considering that there was no apparent light source. He twisted about to see what was behind him, and let out a groan. He had been right. There was no door.

Numb with horror, he turned back around… and saw that an entrance of some kind had formed out of what had been a blank stone wall. There was no door, only an aperture silently widening, revealing some other space hidden in the kind of deep darkness he had awoken in. Slowly Takeru began to get to his feet, and had managed to stand up again by the time Sato Katsu stepped forward out of the blackness.

Takeru recognized him immediately. The scene reminded him again of his dream, when Sato stood in the doorway at Pinocchimon’s mansion. The build and stance of the man in front of him was the same, though this time his gaunt face was visible in the dimness that lingered within the room.

“You…” Takeru whispered, his voice sounding strange and breathless after the stress of his emotional ordeal.

“Yes, Takaishi-san,” Sato answered. Already the arch he had come through was closing. Takeru knew that in his current state he had no chance of slipping through it, and soon all trace of the exit was gone again. “I’m glad to make your acquaintance in person.”

“Where are my friends?” Takeru asked, keeping his voice as steady as he could.

“That’s what I’m here to talk to you about,” Sato replied. Takeru braced himself for what might come next, but his hopes and fears were disappointed when Sato continued, “First, however, I have a question for you.”

Takeru didn’t respond, only waited in doubt.

“What do you think has happened to your friends? If you had to guess, what do you think I have done with them?”

Takeru hesitated. He could tell from the look on Sato’s face and the tone of his voice that the question wasn’t a frivolous taunt. The man was serious. Takeru wasn’t sure how to reply. His mind had been avoiding the subject without realizing it. And the longer he looked at Sato, the surer he became that he didn’t want to know the answer.

“I… I don’t know,” he said.

“Then I’ll give you more time to think,” was Sato’s frigid reply, as he began to turn back to the wall from which he had entered the room.

“Wait!” Takeru said. Sato’s gaze returned to him. “Probably… they’re in the same situation I’m in. I don’t know why you’re here, but… you’ll go to them as well, or you’ve seen them already. Right?”

“And what situation do you _hope_ that they’re in?” Sato asked. Takeru did know the answer to that question.

“I hope they’re safe. I hope they escaped somehow, and you can’t hurt them anymore.”

“You hope that’s the case, but you know it isn’t,” Sato said. “Hope is foolish. Not only are your friends not safe now, but they have never been safe. I have always had the power to strike at the Chosen Children. I’ll tell you why I’m here, Takaishi-san. I am here to help convince you of the stupidity of hope.”

Takeru shook his head. “You’ll never convince me of that,” he said grimly.

“I think I’ve already come very close,” Sato answered. “We’ve been watching you. Hope was your defining trait – at one time. But before long, you will be stripped of it entirely.” There was a moment of silence before Sato continued. “I’ll tell you what we’ve been doing to your friends. For the most part, we’ve been hurting them, very badly. I’ve been keeping a close watch on the proceedings. It’s surprising how much they can take at their age.”

“But then… why not me?” Takeru asked, an angry tremor in his voice. He wasn’t sure that Sato was telling the truth… but then, what reason could he give for doubting? It certainly was something Sato and his group were capable of. Did he not quite believe because he didn’t want to believe? Was that hope? A trembling that was not of anger passed through him. Sato had a manner that convinced. His statements were cold, emotionless, mechanical. They were a suitable vehicle for terrible truths.

“Call it an experiment,” Sato said. In the next moment his impersonal manner abruptly dropped from him. He strode forward until he stood over Takeru, who took a step backwards in surprise. Sato’s face seemed to darken, and his colorless eyes burned. “I am going to break you,” he said in a vicious whisper. “All of you. All twelve. And in the process I am going to see how long it takes to reveal the emptiness of those Crests you carry.”

Having said it, Sato’s fury ebbed out of his expression. “You see, Takaishi-san, there’s no need to do to you what is being done to them. Your thoughts of your friends will be torture enough.”

Takeru steadied himself. He tried to think of a reply, but all he could come up with was, “What if I don’t believe you?”

“That’s part of the experiment,” Sato said. “The possibility of what you don’t want to believe will be enough. I’ve seen enough of your mind to know that. That last dream was very instructive.”

“How? How do you do it? And who are you working for?” Takeru demanded, grasping at a new subject. He wanted to keep the memory of that dream away from him, but it wasn’t easy with the cold metal handcuffs reminding him of the nightmare keychain.

“Anything is possible through the power of a god,” Sato answered with great solemnity. “Perhaps you have heard my master’s name, and it meant nothing to you. But it will.”

“It’s… Dagomon, isn’t it?” Takeru said. Sato nodded. “But… why? Even his servants wanted Hikari-chan’s help to overthrow him.”

Sato gave him a long look. Then slowly the expression that passed for a smile spread over his face. “Is that what she told you?” he said. “You’ve been misinformed. The Deep Ones have a very different use in mind…” His smile hardened as he remembered what he’d found among Takeru’s emotions. “…for Hikari-chan.”

“Don’t call her that!” Takeru snapped, his anger rising again to the forefront.

“I’ll call her what I want. For the moment, she is mine.” Takeru could only glare as Sato continued. “She at least will be left relatively intact. I wouldn’t want to ruin her for them.”

“You—” Takeru stammered, choking on his anger. “Hurting people like this. It’s – It’s disgusting! You can’t—”

His sentence was cut off as Sato lunged forward and seized him by the throat, lifting him entirely off the ground.

“Are you feeling left out, Takaishi-san?” Sato asked. Takeru couldn’t respond. His feet kicked as he fought for air, unable to raise his cuffed hands to support himself. “Don’t worry. You will share the fate of all the others eventually.”

Sato let go, and in spite of his lack of breath Takeru cried out at the pain in his lacerated leg as his feet hit the floor. He tottered and fell. _I won’t cry,_ he urged himself, though he felt tears of pain and awful emotion forming in the corners of his eyes. Slowly, painfully, he got to his feet as Sato continued.

“I may let you see them again, before the end, to see the results of our work. Your brother too, once we’ve had a chance at him. You can hope for that, if you dare to.”

“No,” Takeru said between deep breaths. “He and the others will find a way to stop you.”

“When they can’t even enter the Digital World?”

“They’ll find a way,” Takeru said, drawing back up to his full height.

“That is the trap of hope,” Sato answered softly. One of his arms moved without warning, the back of his fist whipped across Takeru’s face. As Takeru reeled Sato’s knee was thrust into his stomach, and again he fell. “You think that there is always a way,” Sato continued, his voice still calm. “But I am here to teach you, Takaishi-san, that there is not.”

On his back, dizzy from the blows, Takeru tried to recover, but Sato stamped one foot on his wounded leg, and the boy screamed.

“There,” said Sato. “Now you have some small idea of what Hida Iori, and Yagami Hikari, and all the others are feeling.” He walked halfway around the body and gave Takeru a swift kick in the ribs, knocking the air out of him. “That’s enough for now. I have to attend to your friends, and see that the torture is on schedule.”

Takeru groaned and coughed as Sato started to walk away.

“What’s that? I couldn’t make it out,” Sato said, stopping to look back.

Takeru had rolled half onto his side. He coughed again, and took a ragged breath. “…I’ll kill you,” he whispered. Sato only smiled, and walked out of the room.

Takeru fell back on the floor, exhausted. He wanted to get up, run to the wall, pound on the concealed door… but knew it would be no use. He’d felt this before, this helplessness. Twice now he had been unable to save Patamon from death. Now he was equally powerless to save Hikari-chan and the others from something much worse.


	99. Searchers

_“I began to hear something like the hue and cry of organized pursuit.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Shadow Over Innsmouth”_

When Hiraga arrived at the group’s headquarters, he explained his need to locate BlackTailmon and relayed his question about whether it could be done remotely, saying nothing about Sato or his dream – if that was what it was – of the previous night. The dour Caucasian man he asked answered in passable Japanese that the system wasn’t really designed to pinpoint a Digimon’s location, and that it would be particularly difficult to find one so small.

“Then we’ll need people to go around Odaiba looking for it?” Hiraga asked. He would be only too glad to leave the compromised building, but searching for a missing cat didn’t appeal to him, and definitely wasn’t the sort of work he was used to doing.

“Maybe,” the other man said, thinking a moment. “I will see what can be done.” With that he headed off to some other part of the complex.

Left to think, Hiraga tried applying logic to the problem. What would that Digimon do – what had it done – upon realizing that it was stranded? He had heard stories of animals finding their way home over long distances, but BlackTailmon wasn’t really an animal, and he didn’t know in what ratio a Digimon like that operated on instinct as opposed to intelligence. As on a number of other occasions Hiraga regretted having taken this job. It was lucrative, but for maybe the first time in his career he was out of his depth. What a bizarre world he had stumbled into.

As the minutes continued to pass he sat down at one of the unoccupied computers. _Sitting duty,_ he thought, closing his eyes. The wait continued.

***

Taichi’s hunt for the black Tailmon had hardly begun before the hopelessness of his task really hit home. Odaiba was too large, BlackTailmon herself too small, and there wasn’t even a guarantee that she was still on the island. Together his stubbornness and awareness of what was at stake drove him to keep at it, but he also realized that if he wanted any chance at finding her he would need help. Koshiro and Jou were talking to Gennai by this time, but he could ask the others to join the search.

Yamato was the first to respond and the first to appear, meeting Taichi as usual between their apartment buildings with Gabumon in tow. Taichi could see at a glance that his friend hadn’t gotten much sleep last night. That and the stress showed clearly in his face. And why wouldn’t it? Both of them were in the same position, and Taichi had little doubt that he wasn’t looking any better.

Mimi had also sent a reply, and a while after Yamato showed up she, Sora, Palmon, and Piyomon arrived together. The four pairs of partners greeted each other with what warmth they could muster.

“Are we ready to start?” Taichi asked.

“Shouldn’t we come up with some sort of plan first?” Sora asked.

“Ah… Yeah,” Taichi agreed, such a melancholy expression passing over his face that she was almost sorry she had said anything. She could see he was struggling to maintain some semblance of hope. After answering he gazed steadily at the ground, not putting forth any suggestion, and it was Mimi who spoke next.

“Should we split up?”

“We would cover more ground, I guess,” said Yamato.

“I could look from the air,” Piyomon suggested. “If I evolved…”

“I don’t know,” Sora said. “I feel like there’s more to think about. Will that Digimon hide if she sees you? Should we try to sneak up on her? Even if we find her, we’ll still need to be quick enough to catch her.”

“Did you check where that black gate was last night?” Yamato asked Taichi.

“That was the first place I went,” Taichi answered. “She’s not there.”

“There wasn’t any Digimon smell near those trees,” Agumon added. “She must have left a while ago.”

“But where would she go?” Sora wondered aloud.

“Wouldn’t she want to get back to wherever she was before?” Mimi said. “If I were her, I wouldn’t want to stay in a place where enemies were looking for me.”

“Hey… Yeah!” Taichi said. He looked up, enthusiasm surging back into his expression.

“With Lilithmon gone, she wouldn’t be able to go back the way she came…” Yamato said.

“Right,” Taichi answered. “She’d want to get out of Odaiba, and the quickest way back to that building is the same way we came back last night!” He turned and looked in the direction of the nearby Yurikamome station, though one of the apartment buildings blocked the view of the station itself. He actually smiled as if he could see his quarry already, though the smile had a hard edge to it.

“But she could have taken a different way off the island,” Sora protested.

“Maybe, but Rainbow Bridge is the closest,” Yamato said, beginning to catch something of Taichi’s excitement. “We could ambush her there.”

“If she hasn’t already gone that way,” Sora said. “And we don’t know if she would take the road or the train.”

“If she did go that way,” Taichi said, “we’ll follow her all the way back! I’ll head for the station.” And he started off at a run. Agumon watched him go in surprise, then belatedly followed. Yamato also stepped in that direction, but Sora reached out and touched his arm.

“It’s a chance,” he said softly, pausing and looking at her. “If it took her a while to figure it out… Anyway, you and Birdramon can fly ahead to the bridge. You may be able to spot her.”

“Should we do that, Sora?” Piyomon asked, sensing her partner’s continuing hesitation.

“…Yeah,” Sora said after a moment, giving Yamato a smile. “Mimi-chan, Palmon, why don’t you go with them?”

“Alright,” Mimi nodded.

“If she’s there, we’ll catch her,” Palmon said.

Sora nodded, and the four of them started off, leaving her alone with Piyomon.

“Alright,” Sora said, more to herself than to her partner. “We can’t waste any time. Come on, Piyomon.” She raised her Digivice, and when the light of evolution died away and she was safely seated on one of Birdramon’s scaly claws, the phoenix shot into the clouded sky like a great signal flare.

***

BlackTailmon didn’t know that she was being sought by two different parties, but she suspected that it might be the case, which was why she’d been mad at herself for sleeping in so long. She hadn’t spent a very good night. The rain and eventual storm, along with her greater need for concealment, had led her to take shelter, and she’d hardly moved at all from the unlit balcony she chose as a hiding place. It was part of one of the Searea buildings, but didn’t front on the plaza where she had met with the Chosen Children.

It had soon become clear to her that she couldn’t depend on Lilithmon to transport her back to the “coven’s” headquarters. But she still couldn’t quite believe that this was due to a victory on the part of the Chosen Children, so she felt no unease about remaining so close to where they lived. Indeed, she’d felt secure enough (or at least bored enough) to fall asleep before the night was over.

When she awoke it was with a sense that more time had passed than was desirable. She hadn’t yet determined the best method of getting off the island, but a climb to the building’s roof gave her a general idea of how things stood. Her instincts told her that the place she wanted to be was more to the west than to the north, and a glance was enough to tell her that the structure a Tokyoite would recognize as Rainbow Bridge was the most convenient way there. However, she was leery of traversing a place with so little cover.

She considered the alternatives, and it was as she looked back to the bridge that she noticed the trains running under it. She’d seen similar trains in other parts of the city, and knew from observation that there must be a station nearby. From her vantage point it didn’t take her long to spot one, especially considering how ridiculously close it was to the building she stood on. If she had thought of it before, she might have spared herself that long night of waiting. With an irritated hiss she began making her way down.

From the building’s base she headed for the station. She did nothing to draw attention to herself, sticking to the shadows as best she could lest an acquaintance of the Chosen Children recognize her for what she was. She had reached street level and was looking for an opening in the traffic when she heard a few exclamations and felt a murmur go through the crowd. At first she thought that somehow her presence had been detected, but darting a look about she saw that the human pedestrians were focused on something rising from behind the building she had so lately left.

It was a Birdramon. BlackTailmon knew that wasn’t the type of Digimon likely to be recruited by her masters, but she thought she remembered a bird Digimon that had accompanied the Chosen Children. Was it possible…? She looked back down the street, and what she saw confirmed her in her impulse to take cover. On the sidewalk were four familiar figures, headed in her direction. At least there wasn’t any indication that they had noticed her yet. She would prefer to keep it that way. Something a little like awe had come over her – they’d somehow escaped Lilithmon, and anyone capable of that was not to be trifled with.

There was no time to waste slipping through traffic like a true cat; she leapt once, landed on the roof of a slow-moving car, and jumped from there to the station, dashing inside through the feet of humans distracted by the monster in the sky.

Upon making her way up to the boarding platform, she positioned herself at the windows. From there she could just see those two Chosen Children and their partners. They had picked up the pace; perhaps they’d spotted her after all. But she was no longer worried. The partner Digimon, the only real threats, were hampered by their stumpy legs, and they couldn’t evolve if they wanted to follow her into the station – it wouldn’t occur to those idiots to destroy the structure with her inside. And the train was coming. She saw it a little farther down the tracks, approaching fast. In another minute the doors would be opening and she would be safely aboard.

She heard a voice raised downstairs above the general confusion, but paid little attention to it; the train was pulling in. The doors opened and she dodged between the feet of those disembarking – some of them talking uneasily about where that giant bird was going. Then came the wait for the new passengers to board.

BlackTailmon didn’t know it, but most of them had changed their mind about going, since Birdramon was headed in that direction. And even if the firebird wasn’t dangerous in itself – and many were familiar enough with recent history to doubt that it was – any opponent it might be headed towards would be another matter. Only a few people boarded the Yurikamome. But still it waited, and BlackTailmon began to wonder if she would make her escape after all. Inwardly she cursed these humans and their sluggish, overly considerate systems.

A voice came over the PA, informing potential passengers that the train would be leaving soon. At first it seemed that no one would heed the warning, but at the last moment before the closing of the doors two final riders came in at a dead run. BlackTailmon’s smirk of triumph vanished as their eyes found her at the opposite end of the car. The doors slid shut with a hiss, and the Yurikamome went into motion.

BlackTailmon’s yellow eyes were steady. She knew that she was cornered, and began to evaluate the situation. The Agumon was breathing heavily, but would still pose the greatest danger to her. However, it was the look on the Chosen Child’s face that held her gaze.


	100. Pains

_“For in such things they took their joy, and strove to pacify an implacable obscure desire.” – Clark Ashton Smith, “The Isle of the Torturers”_

Miyako had a slight headache. It was barely noticeable, but it formed a consistent background to her chaotic impressions. She had been asleep for a long time, but seemed to have a vague sense of her external surroundings. It couldn’t have fully been sleep, because she was apparently standing rather than lying down… but then it could all just be part of another dream. It felt less real than her recent nightmares had. Slowly, however, her sensations began to solidify, and at last she felt fully awake.

Still some doubt remained about the true state of things – a doubt often missing from the dreams. She didn’t recognize this place, and not only because all she could see was pitch blackness. The atmosphere was uncomfortably cool despite its airless stillness. She wanted to curl up and hug herself for warmth, but could not because both her wrists were handcuffed, not to each other but to unseen structures on either side of her. The cuffs were locked in place somehow – she couldn’t even slide them up or down.

When it became clear that she wasn’t going anywhere, a sort of panic began to set in, though it was held back somewhat by her doubts as to whether any of this was real. Frantically she cast her mind back to whatever had come before, but a shroud of unreality remained over everything. She remembered the scene in the desert and what had happened to Hawkmon, but its nightmarish qualities made even it suspect. Everything had come to seem like a bad dream recently.

The silence started to tell on her. She wanted to shatter it with protests or cries for help, but there was no telling what sort of attention that would draw. This was obviously not a friendly place. Needing to do something, she strained hard against the handcuffs, but was rewarded only with the dismal scrape of metal on stone. No matter how far she leaned, how she pulled with her forearms, how she pushed against the stone floor with her sock-clad feet, there was no change.

Her breathing quickened, not entirely from effort. The question of what was real began to grow in significance. A nightmare was one thing, but if that was not what this was… if she had no chance of waking up… A scream began to form down in her throat. She wanted to stay quiet, but wasn’t sure she could.

“Hawkmon?” Instead of a scream it was a whisper infused with a scream’s emotion. She said it almost automatically, and even as she said it the focus of her fear shifted. That desert battle – had it really happened? If it had, she was doubly lost. She suddenly recalled the dream image of Sato Katsu allowing that last feather to fall and be dissolved. Was it true? Had all of her partner’s unfailing gallantry and quiet support been brought to a sudden tragic end? She was no longer about to scream. In another moment she would begin to cry.

But before the tears had fully formed, she noticed an abrupt change. The darkness was no longer total. A gray dimness suffused the room, the stone walls of which Miyako now saw for the first time. At first she was too surprised to react, but with the return of vision came a heightened sense of her situation. Why she felt cold was partly answered. She apparently wore the clothing created for her whenever she entered the Digital World, but the vest over her thin shirt had been removed, and with a shock of dismay she realized that her baggy red pants were also missing, leaving her in the knee-length spats she wore as an undergarment.

She had no idea of what it all meant, and wasn’t given time to puzzle it out. An aperture silently appeared and widened in the wall before her, forming a doorway for the creature that stood beyond it. Its rubbery covering matched its gray surroundings, and as it plodded slowly forward the circular lenses in its ghostly gasmask reflected Miyako’s pallid figure. It stopped before her.

“What…?” She didn’t know how to finish the question. There were so many things to ask and so much fear to prevent asking.

“Inoue Miyako,” the thing said, in a voice like the harsh hiss of steam. “Welcome to this World of Darkness. Your hosts have business elsewhere, but will attend to you later. For now you are to know that you and the other Chosen Children will never escape this place. Also, that for the present you are to be subjected to experiences designed to pain your mind and senses in various ways. This experiment begins now.”

Miyako made several abortive attempts to reply, even before the speech had ended, but the Digimon, if that’s what it was, reacted to none of them. Part of her difficulty in responding was the sense she got that that no response was asked for. It was somehow like listening to a pre-recorded announcement over a PA system. But she had to say something after that terrible message.

“What— Hey!” No sooner had she broken the silence than the thing turned and began retracing its steps. “Wait! Don’t leave me here! Where’s everyone else?” But having spoken the creature was silent, and had soon disappeared in the darkness it had emerged from. Again Miyako pulled at her restraints, with as little success. As she did so she noticed something strange. The Digimon was apparently gone, but the doorway it had come through was continuing to widen. Why? Was she being taunted, or – a chill went through her – was something else coming to see her?

She stood still and listened. The footsteps of the being in the mask were no longer audible, but there did seem to be something faintly stirring in the blackness ahead. There was a gurgling, slopping sound like thick mud, together with an equally unpleasant metallic scraping that came at measured intervals. Slowly a bulky form resolved itself out of the shadow, and the thing came into the room.

Miyako squeaked and recoiled, not from fear so much as a visceral disgust. The creature was ugly enough to warrant it. It was like a moving blue mass of rotten material not quite meat nor rubber. A gaping maw hung open at the front below bulging, misaligned eyes, disclosing a red interior as moist and molten as the rest of the thing. But worse than its sheer ugliness was the overwhelming smell that came rolling into the room before it. That stench was like a compound of all lesser stenches, with organic decay mixed up with the smells of powerful chemicals.

The Raremon – Izumi-senpai could have named it for her – crawled forward on its claws to within less than a meter from where Miyako stood, shrinking as far back from it as the handcuffs would allow. She was glad to see it pause, worried about what might come next. It was bad enough to be near it and breathing its poisonous atmosphere, but what if it came closer? That mouth could swallow her whole.

What did come next was unexpected. The mouth clamped shut on air, and what might be called the throat below it bulged outward like a bullfrog’s. And without further warning, the thing vomited. The chunks of greenish sludge hit the floor at Miyako’s feet, hissing and steaming – if the flow had touched it could have melted her flesh to the bone. But she had no reason to be grateful. The pile on the floor had been sitting within that rotting body, and had the same stench greatly intensified. On its own it might have gagged her, but worse were the fumes that rose from the slime, making her eyes sting and water, and her throat burn. There followed a fit of coughing that shook her entire frame as it fought with the urge to retch.

When the fit began to pass and Miyako had regained some control, she threw her head back as the only available escape from the toxic gas. As she peered up at the ceiling through misty eyes, there was an odd sound of friction down low, followed by a thick gulping noise as nauseating as the smell. Then she heard again the liquid heaving and scrape of the Raremon’s claws across the floor, and was relieved that it seemed to be leaving. Still, even after silence fell and the effects of the sludge had begun to wear off, she remained with her head back to avoid another inhalation. She stayed that way until her neck began to hurt, then finally, cautiously returned it to a natural position.

Yes, it was gone, and had taken the steaming gunk with it, though something of the smell and the toxic fumes remained. Closing her eyes and holding her breath for intervals made it tolerable. But her relief was tempered by the knowledge that eventually some new and equally terrible thing would approach. In fact, it wasn’t long before she heard it coming. Miyako opened her eyes to see the thing in the rubber suit reentering the room, its gasmask apparently protecting it from the effects of the Raremon’s lingering atmosphere.

As it came closer, she saw that it was holding something in its outstretched hand. She couldn’t tell what it was. It was smaller than the misshapen paw that carried it, and its color was a dull yellow that would have been bright in the Digital World. Whatever it was, she didn’t want anything to do with it.

“H-hey,” she said, her throat still sore. “How long am I going to be stuck here?” She said it without really thinking, but the question assumed great significance as it left her mouth. How much would she be put through, unable to get away? What if she got tired and wasn’t able to sit or lay down? She noticed that she was beginning to feel a little hungry. When would there be food brought to her? _Would_ there be food brought to her? Would she be here forever? Would she _die_ here? “Please—” she stammered, but the thing in the mask interrupted her.

“What follows is also of a physical nature. Later the ordeals will have more variety.”

Miyako’s eyes, misty with fear, fell again on what the creature was holding. She started when the thing’s yellow surface was broken by the appearance of two red slits – its own eyes, which, together with the hint of a mouth, expressed a sardonic malignancy startling in something so small. So, it too was a Digimon. The Troopmon turned over its hand, and the little monster hit the stone floor with a quiet smack.

Having made its delivery the Troopmon turned and again walked slowly out of the room. Miyako looked down to where the little blob had fallen, but it had moved. She realized where it had gone when she felt it crawl atop her left foot. Her instinctive reaction was to kick in an effort to throw it off, but it stuck fast to her sock. Like the Raremon it was in a state somewhere between solid and liquid. Either this gave it adhesive qualities or it could somehow manipulate its body to grip surfaces, because none of her efforts managed to dislodge it.

After a few little kicks Miyako paused to rest. And then the thing began to move. The feel of it crawling up her sock made her uncomfortable, but then it came into contact with her bare skin. The pain didn’t begin immediately. For a moment all she felt on her shin was the creature’s clammy surface. Then that cold wetness began to burn.

The thing was acidic. Caustic liquid seeped slowly out of its body without ceasing, and wherever the creature passed the greasy trail it left behind ate into Miyako’s skin. It wasn’t powerful enough to dissolve flesh, but it hardly felt that way. Now Miyako screamed, as the poison sank in and replaced her nerves with fire. The effect was only temporary in any one place, but the Digimon continued its climb, drawing the pain up after it. Its path meandered – it worked its way around her leg as it ascended, forming an agonizing spiral, and none of her shaking and writhing could detach it.

She hoped that there would be a reprieve once it was no longer touching her skin. Finally it had crawled up to her knee, and rested there atop the fabric of her spats. Miyako, too, stopped moving, and looked down at it. Its expression was the same – her tears didn’t prevent her seeing the mockery in its red eyes. The pain recommenced. The acid had soaked quickly through the thin fabric that was her only defense. It started climbing again.

The minutes stretched on, and still it crawled – now in front, now behind, but always upwards, and her shirt gave no more protection than her spats. Eventually Miyako could no longer make a sound, but only wept, half standing and half hanging from the handcuffs. Finally, after what seemed like hours of torture, there came merciful unconsciousness.


	101. Tense Rendezvous

_“I…could not of course escape a hideous sense of dread and peril and cosmic abnormality as I thought of the place I was in and the forces I was meeting.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Whisperer in Darkness”_

The Yurikamome’s few passengers had read the situation quickly, and waited uneasily in their seats by the car’s windows, leaving the aisle to Taichi and the two Digimon. BlackTailmon stood still, prepared to react to whatever movement the other two might make first. True to her word, she remembered this human from the previous day, and knew that the situation was a dangerous one. He hadn’t attacked her then because he’d needed her to show him to Lilithmon. Now Lilithmon had been faced, and perhaps even defeated, so he could only be here to carry out his earlier threat.

Taichi’s eyes left her for a moment to glance around the rest of the train. He wondered offhand if any of the other passengers recognized him, but knew that he couldn’t worry about maintaining anonymity with the stakes as high as they were. He was, however, responsible for the safety of these other people. He wanted a fight, but realized it would be better to settle things without one.

“Will you come with us?” he asked.

“Why?” BlackTailmon responded, a little surprised at the question.

“You might be able to help us.”

BlackTailmon glanced aside, though she kept the pair in her peripheral vision. “I don’t see how. I took you to Lilithmon. My job’s over. What happened back there, anyways?”

“We beat Lilithmon—” Agumon began.

“But… our friends weren’t there,” Taichi finished for him.

Again BlackTailmon turned her head to face them. She was on the verge of saying that she had no idea where the missing ones were, but caught herself. She disliked nothing more than a fight she had a chance of losing, and if she admitted that she couldn’t be of any use to the Chosen Children there would be nothing stopping this human from lashing out with the anger he was now so obviously repressing.

She thought fast. Escape wasn’t impossible, but it would be much more difficult on the train than it might be later, in the open. Playing along with the Chosen Child’s offer would have risks of its own, but if things went wrong she would always have escape as a backup plan. Taichi’s voice broke in on her thoughts.

“Well, so?” His impatience came through in the words, but BlackTailmon didn’t detect what else lay behind them. Now that the moment of confrontation had come, Taichi’s adrenaline was slowly draining from him. What exactly, he wondered, would he do if this Digimon didn’t cooperate? If Agumon killed her, there would be other leads remaining… but would it be the right thing to do? His partner’s power would doubtless be enough to take her out. Angry as he was, hurt as he and the others had been, was he justified in attacking what was no real threat to him?

“If I do help you,” she said, “then I’ll have the Chosen Children’s protection from…” She wasn’t sure what to call her collective masters. “… _them_?”

Taichi felt both relief and irritation. His dilemma was solved, though the request for protection irked him coming from this Digimon that had taunted him. He didn’t know that the question wasn’t really serious. BlackTailmon was a little superstitious when it came to the people she worked for, who could command even Lilithmon and company. She didn’t expect the Chosen Children to win out in the end.

“If you can help us,” Taichi said at last. It sounded like only the beginning of a sentence, but if it was he didn’t finish it. BlackTailmon, her course of action already decided, made a show of considering long and hard.

“Alright,” she said, finally. “I could tell you what I know, but what do I get in return?” Taichi’s face darkened. “Oh, all right,” BlackTailmon continued with a little smile. “I get it. I guess when the train stops, we can find a place to talk.”

Taichi glanced out the window, across the bay, trying to think ahead. He didn’t trust this Digimon. Things might get out of hand once they were off the Yurikamome. He and Agumon would have to be careful, on the lookout for signs of trouble. He looked back to BlackTailmon. She sat where she was, still as a sphinx, gazing back at him. No, he didn’t trust her at all.

***

The two of them had walked on for a long time without speaking. Anubimon wondered why the Dark Man did not tear a hole in space as he usually did to get where he was going, but kept the question to himself. Perhaps this was merely a way of keeping him from snooping around the black prison… yet he was sure that the Dark One could achieve the same end in some much simpler way. Their way lay through a kind of winding ditch, one of many in the surface of the plateau rendered almost invisible by the uniform color of the eternally-shadowed rock. The path rose and fell, and turned at sharp angles. Now they walked in a shallow ditch, now with the walls of a ravine narrowing their view of the dusky sky overhead, and at times almost through a tunnel formed by beetling outcrops.

At last the Dark Man stopped walking. Anubimon paused as well, though he didn’t see any cause for it. They stood on a kind of promontory, which, like the paths through the rock, could not have been distinguished from the rest of the area by a distant observer. Examining his surroundings more closely, Anubimon determined that the ditch they’d been following went around on both sides of the raised place where they now waited.

“Well, now, Anubimon,” the Dark Man said, breaking the long silence. “What do you think of this World of Darkness? I believe this is the first time you’ve had the pleasure of visiting.”

“What do I think of it…?” Anubimon repeated.

“Do you like it?”

“No,” Anubimon answered, closing his weary eyes. He wasn’t in the mood for any of the Dark One’s games.

“‘No!?’” the Dark Man exclaimed. “But don’t you think it’s a great place for an afterlife?”

“Only for those who deserve it,” the Digimon said, solemnly.

“Which doesn’t include you, I suppose.”

Anubimon pondered on this a few moments, then shrugged. By now, perhaps it did.

“You might never leave it, you know,” the Dark One continued. “There would be some irony in that.”

Anubimon didn’t respond. He recognized the possibility, and had nothing to say. He waited several moments. The Dark Man, who had been facing away from him, smiling at the horizon, now turned around with a grin. But if he was looking for a reaction to his words Anubimon was resolved to disappoint him.

“Why are we here?” he asked instead.

“Looking for livelier company,” the Dark Man answered. “We’re almost there. Come take a look.” He pointed downwards, over the edge of the promontory. Anubimon stepped forward and peered down. It took a few moments, but his eyes were keen enough to make out that what lay before him was not another ditch but a large circular chasm carved deep into the plateau. “After you,” the Dark Man said.

Swallowing his misgivings, Anubimon stepped off the ledge, his darkness-tarnished wings slowing his descent. Setting down on the bottom he heard a light step behind him, and the Dark One strode past him and up to one of the rock walls. At a wave of his hand the stone surface before him seemed to melt away into violet vapors – a door was there where none had been a moment before.

“My refrigerator,” the Dark One said, smile broadening. “Step inside, please.” As he spoke the door swung slowly open, and Anubimon could indeed feel a rush of chill air from within. With a sense of foreboding, he obeyed. He was somewhat surprised to find that instead of the black cave he’d expected he was apparently back out in the open air. The darkness above him was that of the night sky, in which hung a few stars like specks of frost. Everything was enveloped in a numbing coldness. The floor of this place was solid ice.

Peering ahead, Anubimon began to make out something paler than the sky – it resolved itself into a large, asymmetrical building. As he gazed the Dark One strode past and headed towards it. Anubimon turned his head to see if the doorway was still open, but there was only sky behind him. After a moment’s hesitation he followed his guide, wondering what all this was leading to.

Coming closer to the structure didn’t help to define it. It was an irregular ruin of a building, apparently made of stone or concrete, most of it coated in frost and ice. Anubimon followed the Dark Man through a doorway and into a hall. Here there was a greater diversity of materials: a hardwood floor, plaster walls, and a few odds and ends such as busted picture frames. Terrible damage must have been done to the building at some time. There were great holes in the wall, and places where there was no longer any ceiling. As with the space outside, there were occasional patches of snow that had never had a chance to thaw.

Anubimon found himself wondering what had happened to this place, and whether it had always been this way. The destruction didn’t seem to be particularly recent in most places, but in the gloom it was hard to tell. Once he noticed several long scratches in a wall, apparently carved by enormous claws, and wondered what sort of Dark World monster might have left them.

“Oh my,” the Dark Man murmured, a little ahead of where the other had paused to examine the damage. Anubimon caught up at the entrance to another room, larger than the rest. Following the Dark One’s gaze to a corner of the room, Anubimon was surprised to see the steady, inadequate glow of a small flame. He was more surprised to notice that something sat huddled in the corner, taking what little benefit it could from the meager heat and light.

The figure’s strangeness lay in its being human. If the gloom wasn’t playing tricks with his vision, Anubimon was looking at a girl of roughly the same age as the Chosen Children. As he watched she raised her head; the eyes that had been hidden behind bangs looked up from the fire to the dark figure standing over her. Seeing the Dark Man’s face she visibly shivered and looked quickly back to the flame.

“How did you ever manage a fire?” the Dark Man said, getting no answer.

“Is… she human?” Anubimon asked. Besides the oddity of there being a human in this strange place, he sensed something else that bothered him.

“She’s not much at all by this point,” the Dark One answered. “But she’s no more human than I am.” Anubimon knelt and studied the silent figure, not getting any closer. For the first time he recognized a familiar scent in the still air.

“A Digimon!” he said, eyes widening. “But how?”

“Oh, everything in the Digital World is malleable,” the Dark One said. “You know that.” The object of discussion paid no apparent attention to what was being said. She remained motionless, watching her little fire. “Come on, Natsu,” the Dark Man addressed her, chuckling as if at a joke. “We’re going on a little trip.”

“I don’t want to go with you,” she answered, stealing another glance up at him. Anubimon could see the anger in her eyes, and the fear just behind it, and realized that here was a fellow creature whose feelings toward the Dark One matched his own. “I’m waiting for someone,” she said.

“Actually, ‘someone’ is waiting for you,” the Dark Man smiled. “Your wait’s over. Get up.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Go away.”

Instead, the Dark Man stepped forward and set his foot down on the flame, snuffing it out and leaving the room in deeper darkness. With a hurt, angry whimper the Digimon called Natsu jumped to her feet. There was just light enough left for Anubimon to see her turn on the Dark One, little fists raised, and to see the other grasp her arms. Instantly the fight went out of her. Anubimon cringed, remembering the baleful effects of the Dark One’s touch.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” the Dark One said, looking at him. “Or do. I don’t care.” Smiling, he turned round and shoved the girl from him, sending her stumbling towards the doorway. As she fell to her hands and knees, Anubimon noticed for the first time that there were objects in the air about them – little points of floating light. And he also saw, looking at the girl, that one seemed to have attached itself to the back of her neck, glowing through the pale blue of her short hair.

“Go on,” the Dark Man said. After a moment the girl slowly stood, and moved reluctantly through the doorway and down the passage. The Dark Man beckoned to Anubimon, and followed her.


	102. Messengers

_“‘In brief, I have postulated a monistic evil, which is the source of all death, deterioration, imperfection, pain, sorrow, madness and disease. This evil, so feebly counteracted by the powers of good, allures and fascinates me above all things.’” – Clark Ashton Smith, “The Devotee of Evil”_

Iori had sat waiting in the blackness for hours. Further sleep was out of the question; he remained awake and meditated on tragedy because there was no other option. In addition to mourning for Armadimon he wondered what had happened to the others. There were no more sounds in this place than there was light – at least, there were no sounds he couldn’t have imagined. Sense deprivation may have been responsible for the stealthy sounds he sometimes thought he heard. He’d moved little in all the time he’d spent waiting, not wanting to risk walking into some unseen peril in the dark.

He started to wonder if his captors were ever going to show themselves. Anything, he felt, would be preferable to this eternal dwelling on the death of his partner, the fate of the other Chosen Children, what had happened to Chiho, and what might yet be in store for her and everyone else he cared about. Had he been left here to suffocate while the enemy plotted the torment and destruction of his family and friends? There could be nothing more horrible than being buried alive… except being buried alive knowing he could not fulfill his duty to protect others.

He reached a point where there was nothing for it but to try and explore his dungeon before he went insane. He’d waited long enough, and there was no guarantee that he had anything to wait for. It was hard to move after sitting for so long. His body ached as if he’d spent too much time on kendo practice, or maybe as if someone had taken a shinai to him. That last nightmare came back to him, and his expression turned hard in the darkness. He had to get out of here, before the monster he’d faced down did still greater damage.

His movements were slow from caution, but it didn’t take long to determine that there was literally no way out of the room. The realization nearly paralyzed him. The atmosphere grew close, as if he could feel the walls pressing in on him. Wait! Maybe the ceiling…? But what did it matter? Even if there was an exit above him, he would never be able to reach it.

He sat down again, heavily. He was trying his best to remain calm, but he’d been calm for about as long as he could. His breaths came deep and ragged, and again his eyes began to tear up. But it was at that moment that the awaited change finally came. The darkness began, if not to lighten, then at least to lessen. The gray, featureless room came into view, as if a curtain were rising. As he watched the change take place, Iori heard the sound of footsteps behind him, and looking quickly around saw Sato Katsu standing there before the reclosing wall.

Iori got to his feet, willing the tears away and hoping the man didn’t notice them. For a few moments they stood still, each returning the other’s gaze – Iori’s cold, Sato’s colder. It was Sato who broke the silence.

“What do you want to know?”

The question caught Iori off guard. Even so, the answer came quickly, and pushing aside his misgivings he gave it.

“Where are the others?”

“Interesting. That tended to be their question as well.”

“Are they here, then?” Iori asked.

“What does it matter? There’s nothing you can do whether they are here or anywhere else. Why didn’t you ask what was going to happen to you yourself? Surely you care.”

The scorn in Iori’s expression became overt. “You probably wouldn’t be able to understand,” he said. “A person like you… can’t have any friends.” It almost sounded like a question.

“I have associates,” Sato answered. “Friends are liabilities.”

“You really can’t understand,” Iori said bitterly, shaking his head. Silence fell, and his look turned thoughtful. Sato waited, his dark eyes still expressionless. “Didn’t you ever…” Iori began slowly, but the question trailed off into nothing.

“Go on,” Sato prompted, a trace of his grimacing smile creeping into his features.

“I… don’t understand,” Iori said. He spoke with hesitation, unsure of himself. “But I want to understand. In the past, I met Ichijouji-san and Oikawa-san, when they were bad people, but they hadn’t always been that way. They were both tricked. And now you—” He looked up, anger on his pale face. “You’re worse than either of them. You’ve done… so much evil. You say you know the darkness is using you. Why?” He swallowed, and when he spoke again his voice was firm. “I want to know why.”

“You wouldn’t understand me,” Sato said with a sneer, “any more than I understand you. Maybe you will eventually, but I doubt it. You’ve lived in the light all your life. In your so-called Real World darkness is a purely negative quality, a mere absence of light. You cannot hope to understand me until you have lived in darkness – the true, positive, living Darkness – as I have done.”

Sato spread his arms wide, the palms of his hands open, their fingers crooked. “Here! This is your first time in the World of Darkness. Physically, that is. I’m sure you’ve felt its touch before, as has any human being truly acquainted with sorrow and terror. This is your world, now. And perhaps, by the end, you will understand.”

His arms dropped to his side and he advanced, Iori retreating step by step from the hatred burning in his eyes. The boy’s attention was fixed on his captor, and neither of them noticed that the room’s hidden entrance had reopened until a new voice spoke with the rushing sound of hot gas.

“Sato-sama, a messenger has arrived.”

Sato turned his back on Iori and looked at the Troopmon.

“What do you mean?” he asked, sounding irritated.

“One who speaks for the gods,” the Digimon replied. There was a long silence. Finally Sato retraced his steps to the doorway. On the threshold he turned back to fix his cold eyes on Iori.

“I’m afraid that I am required elsewhere,” he said. “I or my servants will see to you later. In the meantime, I suggest that you turn your thoughts toward what awaits you.”

“Wait!” Iori cried, seeing Sato leaving. He ran forward, but the Troopmon intercepted him, the three metallic fingers of one rubbery hand clamping down on his shoulder and forcing him to kneel with the pain of the pressure. His hands still cuffed behind him, he could only remain there with his teeth clenched.

“No,” Sato said. “There will be time later, I promise you. This will not end…until long after the Chosen Children have begged me for death, and I have had the satisfaction of denying it to them.” He glanced at the Troopmon. “Hurt him some more, then return to your post.”

And with that he left the room, and the wall shut behind him.

***

Sato found his visitor waiting outside the building. The creature’s dark aspect suited it to its surroundings, though there was an awkwardness about it too. This was natural enough, considering that it was far from its usual habitat – for it was one of those things that Hikari had been fooled into thinking were Hangyomon, one of the Deep Ones that served no master but Dagomon. A little distance away was its mode of transportation: a black, serpentine creature with tenebrous wings, unmistakably related to the smaller being and also resembling a Digimon in form… an Airdramon, perhaps.

“Ia Ruruie,” Sato said, looking over the strange messenger. “You are a long way from home.”

“The journey was necessary,” it replied in a deep gurgle. “I speak for the god we serve. I come bearing a rebuke, for the message should have been delivered to you directly. You have not kept yourself available, and have not heard the master’s call.”

“I have been busy,” Sato said in a sullen tone. “I’ve been preparing the minds of the Chosen Children – molding their dreams – and have not had time to sleep naturally. It is because of my devotion to this work that the Chosen Ones are now in our power.”

“Do not explain yourself to me,” the Deep One said slowly. Off a ways behind it the draconic being flapped its great wings once and became still again. “It is your affair and not mine.”

“What is the rest of your message?” Sato asked.

“The time that we have awaited for so long is nearly arrived,” it answered, raising its clawed hands in a gesture of religious fervor. “Your efforts have not been in vain. The ripples of the years have become waves that before long will drown the light.”

“Ia,” Sato whispered. “Kutouruu futagun!”

“Yes,” the Deep One continued, still solemn. “But there may be difficulties from another quarter. Demon has rejected the god’s offer. You must be prepared if he decides to interfere.”

“…Yes, I see,” Sato said after a long pause. “But surely there is little enough danger. Demon’s focus remains on the human world for now.”

The Deep One didn’t reply, only maintained the unblinking stare of its yellow eyes.

“There is no more to your message, then?” Sato asked.

“There is no more,” it answered, “if you have heeded well these warnings from our god. Beware of Demon. There may yet be need to quench his awful fires. And do not allow your devotion to flag – you know that our god’s demands must be met. Hear his call and follow his commandments. There is no other way.”

“Of course not!” Sato said, anger coming into his voice. “Our god’s word is law, and I will obey it. There is no need to lecture me. I have submerged myself completely in accordance to his wishes, and surely he knows it well. I accept his rebuke. You may go.”

So saying, he turned round and walked back towards the black doorway of the great building behind him. The messenger said nothing more. It too turned, and having remounted the black-winged horror took its leave through the murky sky.

***

When the Troopmon’s beating was ended, Iori lay again on the stone floor, too weak to try and follow it out the temporary door. He knew there was no position to lie in that wouldn’t hurt, so he remained where he had fallen, unmoving. The Digimon hadn’t wounded him – it was too blunt and puffy to deal serious damage – but he knew there would be many bruises left by the blows his handcuffs prevented him from fending off.

The pain was not great enough to command all his attention, so his mind naturally turned back to the encounter with Sato that the arrival of the “speaker for the gods” had cut short. He worked hard to reject the idea that pondering the situation was only an academic exercise. What he lacked in hope his sense of duty made up for. He _would_ get out of here because he _had_ to get out of here to help his fellow Chosen Children and the innocents in the human world. He tried to shut out the pain and concentrate on what had been said.

There seemed little enough to analyze. Sato had confirmed that he was now in the Dark World, a place that he had heard spoken of many times but never had the misfortune of visiting. Although Sato hadn’t said so, his friends were probably here too. There was no reason why he alone might be spared – if one could call this being spared. Iori believed that Sato…and that other Thing…were capable of anything.

Sato Katsu… Where had he come from? Maybe some people were just born bad – an idea that Iori had held for a long time without giving much serious thought to – but his experiences in the past year or so had set him reevaluating his beliefs. And even if Sato had been born an evil person, how had he obtained his power? Where did his link to the darkness come from? Maybe there was an answer somewhere in their two brief conversations, but if there was Iori couldn’t seem to find it.

That messenger… who were the gods it spoke for? Sato’s masters, apparently. The thought of a yet greater evil turned Iori cold. His eyes watered again as he remembered Armadimon, and Chiho, and thought of what could happen to his friends and family members. Whatever the dark powers were planning, he had to stop it. He _had_ to.


	103. Cat and Goat

_“The head is pronounced by the most experienced archaeologists of the district to be that of a faun or satyr. [Dr. Phillips tells me that he has seen the head in question, and assures me that he has never received such a vivid presentment of intense evil.]” – Arthur Machen, “The Great God Pan”_

Most of the distance to the Shibaura-futo station had been covered in a silence more tense than awkward. Meanwhile, both Taichi and BlackTailmon were doing their share of thinking. Taichi had to decide when and where they should get off the Yurikamome. While BlackTailmon was on it, there was little chance of her getting away, but that would change once they left it. Maybe Sora and Birdramon could watch from above, but only if they were ready. Maybe the best thing would be to return to Odaiba, but that would mean a change of trains if they weren’t going to ride down the entire line. There was no simple, soccer game answer, and they were coming up on the station all too quickly.

For BlackTailmon’s part, the question was how far she should play along. It would take cunning and quick thinking to prevent the Chosen Children from realizing that she was of no real use to them. On the other hand, there was a possibility that she could turn the tables on them. Unfortunately, a trap is hard to set without co-conspirators. She wondered if her absence had even been noted yet by those who had brought her to this world. It also occurred to her that she didn’t know how much damage the Chosen had done to the group’s headquarters. Had they gone over the entire place? If she tried to convince them that their friends were in that building, they might call her bluff.

The Yurikamome slowed as it approached the station. _Alright,_ Taichi thought. _Maybe it’s best just to find out what’s going to happen now instead of later. We’ll be ready if she tries to get away._

“We’ll get off here,” he said aloud to the two Digimon. “After the other passengers,” he added while the train came to a stop, as an afterthought for those passengers’ benefit. After a moment they took the hint and disembarked, sidling past the Digimon and the strangely fierce boy with them. “Alright. Come with us,” Taichi said to BlackTailmon when the car had emptied.

“Where are we going?” she asked, trying to sound innocent.

“Just follow me,” Taichi said, not having any other answer ready to hand. “Agumon, you follow her.”

“Don’t trust me, huh?” she said.

“Would you?” he returned. BlackTailmon suppressed a smile. In spite of everything, she liked this human’s attitude. It was closer to hers than he realized. She was a little inclined to disdain the Agumon – playing jailer to a Digimon a level above his – but knew that the power of evolution was on his side.

The strange procession left the train, and then the station, unbothered by the wary onlookers. Finding a place to talk was a little easier than Taichi had expected. The fenced-in, concrete space under the station stairs was empty except for a long bike rack. Agumon was the one to spot it; Taichi’s eyes were turned aloft as they stepped outside, looking for Birdramon. The three waited in silence beneath the stairs while Taichi messaged Sora through his D-Terminal.

BlackTailmon made no move to escape… not yet. She had more faith in her intelligence than in her physical strength against enemies like these. If she was careful, her patience might pay off. She was looking at Agumon. The little dinosaur’s face was calm, but set and attentive. They heard Taichi’s D-Terminal beep.

_We’ll stay up here until you need us_ (Sora’s reply read), _unless Birdramon gets tired. I’ll let Yamato and Mimi-chan know what’s going on._

Taichi read it and looked up at BlackTailmon.

“My friends are going to be keeping an eye on us,” he said. The warning was obvious.

BlackTailmon nodded, her expression blank and her mouth silent. What had occurred to her while on the train, that she didn’t know exactly what had happened the previous night, came back to her. Granted that Lilithmon had been destroyed – and it didn’t seem likely these kids would be here if she hadn’t been – then what was the extent of the damage the children and their Digimon had caused? What about the rest of the coven? Until she knew the answer, she ran the risk of betraying herself. It was best to let the Chosen Child speak first.

But for a few moments Taichi didn’t speak. His eyes looked through BlackTailmon rather than at her as he confronted his own doubts. The others’ opinion – and he had to admit it was probably the right one – was that neither BlackTailmon nor Lilithmon had known about what had happened to Hikari and the others. What if this Digimon could only point him back to the building where the police had failed to find the missing Chosen Children?

“Now…” he said at last, to break the awkward pause. Another second passed before he took the plunge. “That building we were in last night. How much of it is controlled by those people you work for? Are there others like it?”

BlackTailmon had to say something. Any hesitation meant that her answer would be taken for a lie – which it very well might be. “Didn’t you see enough of the base already?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm. If she could excite the human’s emotions it could help her figure out what he knew. The trick was to not push him too far.

“Just answer the question,” snapped Taichi, who had seen far too much of that base and had nothing to show for it.

“It’s a pretty big place,” BlackTailmon said, erring on the side of exaggeration. _Why doesn’t he just ask where his friends are?_ she wondered.

“And are there other buildings?” Taichi asked again.

“Not that I know of,” she answered truthfully, against her natural inclination. She thought she was beginning to see the situation.

“So you can’t really help us,” Taichi said. BlackTailmon inwardly winced. _Should have just lied,_ she thought.

But Taichi, despite his scowl, gave his partner no order to kill her, and she quickly replied, “Maybe I can. You want to get back into that building, right? I could show you how.”

“Sounds like a trap waiting to happen,” Taichi said, thinking her offer had come maybe a little too quick.

“A trap’s a hard thing to set up all by myself,” BlackTailmon answered.

“Unless…” Taichi said after a moment, “They know you’re bringing us to them, and that’s why they didn’t come and get you already.”

“But they couldn’t have expected you to beat Lilithmon,” BlackTailmon said, ironically trying to convince him of what was true. “ _I_ still can’t believe you really did it. What trap are they going to have that’s better than that?” She fell silent after that, brought up short by her own question. If the Chosen Children really had been a match for Lilithmon… If they had done the impossible… then was there a chance that they might actually _win?_

Taichi was quiet as well. He was trying to think about what the right thing to do was. Did he really plan to return to that bloodstained building? He didn’t know how much he believed of what BlackTailmon had told him. If that building was the enemy’s only base, then they had to go back. He’d have to talk to the others about it.

He once again pulled out his D-Terminal and messaged Sora.

_We need to talk. It’s too exposed here. Can you pick us up near the bridge?_

Not too long afterward, following a tense and somewhat stealthy trek to a suitable location, Taichi, Agumon, and BlackTailmon were met by the descending Birdramon. Both Taichi and his partner had been watchful, looking for any sign of their prisoner trying to ditch them, and continued to watch her as Birdramon lifted off again, the human passengers clinging to one claw and the Digimon on the other. But still BlackTailmon made no sudden movement, only glancing wistfully at the ground of mainland Tokyo as it fell away beneath her.

She seemed to have something on her mind besides escape, and that worried Taichi a little. He thought about the building she would lead them into, about what they had seen there last night, and about what might go wrong. BlackTailmon would probably be a liability now instead of an asset. For a moment he almost missed the old kill-or-be-killed days of that first adventure, but was immediately ashamed at himself. What would Hikari think of a thought like that?

Birdramon rose higher above the bay, wheeling back towards Odaiba.

***

For the most part, Panimon had been moving by night, the best time for his depredations. On his wings he could travel rapidly and silently, switching to his half-hooved feet when the time came to charge and seize his latest target. Sometimes, if the place was private enough, he might let them run a little ways as he came dancingly clopping after them. There was little enough chance of their escaping the reach of his fingers.

Only his victims had gotten a good look at him, and most of those had only had glimpses enough to illustrate a lifetime’s worth of future nightmares. All this stealth wasn’t strictly necessary – he had, after all, nothing whatsoever to fear – but he was saving energy to fuel the glorious culmination of his stay in the human world. It was for this reason that he largely stayed put during the daytime. Not that he was immobile. With his remarkable talent for altering his physiology, and the aid of some stolen articles of clothing, he could at times pass for a human…almost.

He haunted shady parks and dark alleyways, and anyone who saw him instinctively loathed him without suspecting his true nature. He knew it, and drank in their discomfort, tiding himself over until the much headier horror of the people he actually set upon. The majority of those he allowed to live. They would carry their hideous experience with them forever afterwards. He let out a low, glutinous laugh at the thought.

He recalled the previous night’s most fulfilling crime, greedily going over the details. He’d come across what might have been a young couple or a brother and sister walking home together, perhaps for added safety. If that was the idea, it had done them no good. Two victims being taken together, each caring for the other, had much more than doubled the negative energy yielded, and Panimon regretted not trying it earlier.

For, sadly, his time for leisure was nearly over. He had come here for a reason, and had made a bargain for the privilege. He’d had two full nights now, and most potential prey would be wary when the third came. Fortunately, there were several victims who would be eager enough to meet him of their own volition. Tonight he would at last seek out the Chosen Children. He would make himself known, the old god of another world, and this proud metropolis would quake and crumble before him. And after that? _Well_ …

He knew that something tremendous was coming. With luck, he wouldn’t be saying goodbye to this world, or to the Digital World for that matter, anytime soon. Who knew? Perhaps he might even have company coming.

But there would be time enough for speculation later. First came the Chosen Children and their Digimon. He wondered whether the battle would be easy or not. From what he had heard in the midnight forests and temples of the Dark World, the group had an impressive track record. That didn’t make their defeat any less inevitable, but it did raise the possibility of a satisfying challenge.

He looked forward to nightfall and to meeting the Chosen Children – particularly the one who had been this adventure’s inspiration – with growing anticipation. They were hurting terribly even now. He’d caught the mouthwatering odor of it on his visit to Odaiba, and knew it could only get better. Tonight would be a feast for the ages.


	104. Reunion

_“But the vapor drew down, evil and clammy, coiling and wreathing like knots of phantom serpents, and filling men’s marrows as if with the cold of death.” – Clark Ashton Smith, “The Ice-Demon”_

Daisuke’s sleep was long, and restless. For the first time the waves of nightmare that had been battering his friends for nearly a week washed over him in their full strength. Whatever protection he had had was now swept away, and he could sense it in his dark dreams, but while sleep lasted he couldn’t quite comprehend why that barrier was gone. Events had chipped it away until nothing was left. Through a kaleidoscope of negative emotions he knew only that he was hurting.

When he finally came back to consciousness it was with a snap. All at once he was awake, wrenched from interminable visions of defeat, loneliness, and frustration into reality. The first thing he noticed was the unpleasant coolness of the room, exacerbated by his missing gloves and the icy handcuffs on his wrists. His eyes opened on blackness so complete that he might as well have left them closed.

“This… is real?” he said, getting awkwardly to his feet. He thought it was, but the unusually long string of dreams had left him disoriented. Thinking back, he looked for something that seemed solid, and came up almost immediately with the underground tunnels and the burning desert. A wintery thrill ran through him. “V-mon? V-mon!”

There wasn’t so much as an echo in reply. The darkness remained still and silent. Daisuke strained at the handcuffs, trying to pull his hands apart, but didn’t have the strength. Still working at it he took a few steps around the room, calling again for his partner. Before long he met a stone wall and, striking off in another direction, another. The room was small, only a little larger than his bedroom at home.

There was no question that something terrible and unexpected had happened, and he was afraid he knew what it was. “Ichijouji! Hikari-chan!” No response. Where were his friends? They weren’t in this room, at least. And V-mon! Had he really been… killed? The fight was real, this was real, but maybe that part was nightmare. _But V-mon wouldn’t have stopped fighting,_ he thought. It was that realization that convinced him. Brave, loyal V-mon would never have let this happen while he still possessed the strength to resist.

For a moment there was utter quiet in the blackness. Then Daisuke sobbed aloud, and staggered against a nearby wall. The tears came at once, choking him, streaming down his cheeks. “V-mon…” A strong shudder passed through his frame, rattling the short chain of the handcuffs. He shook his head, violently, blinking back the teardrops that he would be unable to wipe away. His grief did not subside, but now anger, too, was rising in him.

“Where are you?” he growled at the empty room. And again, louder: “You bastards! Where are you?” No answer. His friends were gone, and his enemies were ignoring him. “Damn it!” He kicked savagely at the wall, not heeding the resulting pain. “Hey!” he shouted. “Come on out! You – _killed – V-mon!_ ”

Again, there was no response. Nor would there be for what seemed like ages, during which Daisuke paced about his cell in a blaze of impotent fury and deep, aching sadness. His best friend was dead, the other partner Digimon were too, and Hikari-chan and the others needed him. Fragments of the night’s dreams kept returning to haunt and sting him, particularly something his double had said on the soccer field – _All your friends are going to lose everything._ If only he could get out of this room! It seemed to be getting smaller by the minute.

He had to sit down at last, heavily. Despite the chill of the room he had worked up a sweat, and the combination of emotional stress, physical exertion (he must have been moving for well over an hour), and the lack of restful sleep had left him exhausted. He’d stopped crying a long time before now, but felt, if anything, more miserable than before.

Much as it embarrassed him for anyone to bring it up, he knew that he was a simple person, a doer and not a thinker. And it was because of his uncomplicated nature that he now found himself at such a loss. There was nothing he _could_ do. So he thought. He soon discovered, as his friends had also learned from experience, that an active imagination in this terrible place was not an asset, but only another weapon of their captors.

Turning from vague, uneasy speculation about what might be happening to the others, he considered the people responsible for beating and destroying V-mon and the other partner Digimon. And who had tortured all those Digimon back in the underground base. His hands clenched and unclenched behind his back. If only they were here and his hands were free…

“I’d…” he breathed aloud.

“You’d what?”

Daisuke jumped to his feet and peered into the darkness where the voice had come from, all fatigue momentarily forgotten. He couldn’t be sure – his eyes had been seeing spots before in the utter absence of light – but he thought he saw two faint, glimmering points there, like the eyes of someone looming above him.

“Who’s there?” he asked. Then, not waiting for an answer, “You’re the one that killed V-mon, aren’t you!?”

The Dark Man’s smile gleamed out under the eyes.

“Yes,” he said. “And I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. I never have been a very good host – or a very good guest! Just ask Sato-san.”

Daisuke said nothing, debating whether or not to rush into an attack, handcuffs or no.

“Let me help you with those,” the Dark Man continued, perfectly able to see the boy’s expression despite the darkness. There was a sound of snapping fingers, and suddenly the cold burden of the handcuffs was gone as they evaporated into data. Daisuke immediately brought his hands in front of him, rubbing at his sore wrists. “Well, give it a shot,” the Dark Man said. “The first one’s free.”

Hesitating no longer, ablaze with anger and ignoring the small warning voice in his head, Daisuke plunged forward, leading with one fist and putting all his remaining energy behind it. The punch hit home, striking the Dark Man’s stomach. And whatever Daisuke had expected, he cried out in surprise and pain as his knuckles sank several inches into a squirming, viscous surface that burned like cold fire. He pulled back his hand as quickly as he had launched it. The Dark Man’s teeth flashed again in laughter, and his eyes twinkled more brightly.

“I couldn’t resist,” he said.

“Wh-What the hell are you?” Daisuke asked, completely unnerved. He now recalled that strange transformation out in the desert.

“What am I not?” the Dark Man said with a chuckle. “All you really need to know is that I have more power than you can imagine, and that my job is to devote that power to making your life as miserable as I can.”

“Why?” Daisuke growled. “For that Sato guy?”

“Yes, dear Sato-kun,” the other sighed. “He summoned me from my world to help him take care of the Chosen Children. And do you want to know why he does what he does?”

“That doesn’t matter,” Daisuke said. “He’s gonna pay for what he’s done.” He looked up at the glimmering eyes with clean-burning hatred. “And so are you.”

“Doesn’t matter?” the Dark Man repeated with an incredulous whoop. “I can guarantee it would matter to your friends! They keep asking him why, they keep asking me why. But you get straight to the real point, of course. That single-mindedness has served you well in the past…”

There was a brief silence. Daisuke was about to speak again when the Dark Man began chuckling in the darkness. It went on, rising almost to the level of a laugh.

“Shut up,” Daisuke said sullenly, unaccustomed to the chills that were beginning to run through him. After another second or so the Dark Man obliged, but then resumed talking.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” he said. “There’s just so much that’s… funny. I’ll get to the point. I have a surprise for you. Another visitor.”

Slowly the darkness began to thin. Before long Daisuke could make out the outlines of the Dark Man’s body looming out of the shadows. That half-shrouded figure commanded his eyes’ attention, so that it was only when the Dark Man moved that he noticed the much slighter figure behind.

The Dark Man pulled the girl around to his side before releasing her arm. She stood there, eyes closed, swaying sickly, and in the lessening gloom Daisuke recognized Nat-chan. His mouth fell open, but for the moment he was speechless.

“Well, say hello, Natsu,” the Dark Man said, giving her a little push forward. Stumbling a little she opened her eyes, and it was as she regained her balance that she saw…

“Daisuke.” The corners of her mouth quivered upwards, as though she would smile, but the attempt failed. Something about his expression must have troubled her. Daisuke was studying her features. As far as he could tell, she was the same girl – no, the same Digimon – he had met not long ago in the wintery streets of New York. The Dark World had faded her clothes and the light blue of her hair, but it was clearly her, the Nat-chan from before her terrifying transformation and her sacrifice.

“N-Nat-chan!” he stammered. “But… how did you get here?” The question seemed to recall her to where she was. She rushed forward to stand by his side, glancing at the placidly smiling Dark Man.

“He brought me here!” she said. Then added, in a whisper, “That thing…”

“What’s going on?” Daisuke asked, addressing the Dark Man. “How do you know Nat-chan?”

“I met her, not very long after answering Sato’s summons,” the Dark Man replied. “Of course, she looked a little bit different from what she does now. She might have grabbed your attention as she was, but I thought this form might be a little more to your taste. Come to think of it, she looks just a little like that other girl. What was her name…?”

“You mean—” Daisuke began, _the_ girl jumping immediately to mind. Then suddenly all his apprehensions of the dark hours rushed back. “Wait! Where is she? Is she okay? And the others?”

“Maybe, maybe not,” the Dark One said with a nonchalant air. “What could you do if I said they weren’t? Besides,” he continued with a sly grin, “You’ve got a girlfriend to worry about right here.”

Beads of sweat appeared on Daisuke’s forehead as he considered the possibilities. At the same time he looked towards Nat-chan, and saw that she was staring at him fixedly. She did look like someone in need of protection. “Daisuke…” she said, softly. Then without warning her eyes squeezed shut in a wince. A little gasp escaped her, and she put a hand to her head.

“Nat-chan!” Daisuke cried in alarm. He raised his hands as if in preparation to comfort her, but then stood immobile, unsure what to do. She was clearly in pain, and it appeared to worsen momently. Then Daisuke felt a real stab of icy fear as something slid without leaving a mark out of the girl’s neck. He recognized it immediately, though in this place its glow was too much dimmed to be mistaken for that of a firefly. From across the room the Dark Man laughed low, making a series of quick, beckoning gestures with his hand.

“What’s going on!?” Daisuke yelled. More of the data chips were rising into the air now from Nat-chan’s body. He’d seen their emergence before, just as she had begun to transform, but then it hadn’t seemed to hurt her.

“It was these little beauties I used to make her what she is,” the Dark Man said, as Natsu, still clutching her head, sank to her knees. “You have me to thank, Motomiya-kun, for meeting this girl you call Summer. And you’re _very_ welcome.”

The low, tinkling sound of the data chips was rising, and now another, much louder sound joined them. Static crackled in the air – their surroundings shimmered, then resettled. And the temperature began to fall.

“Nat-chan,” Daisuke said, grasping her shoulders with trembling hands. “Are you okay? Nat-chan!” It was no use. Looking down at her he could see a thin coating of ice begin to crawl across the floor from under where she knelt. “Please!” he said, turning to the Dark Man. “Please don’t hurt her anymore!” The only response he got was a widening smile. “Stop it!”

“It hurts…”

“What can I do?” Daisuke asked, returning his attention to Nat-chan. Unable to console her, he could only hold to her, his shyness temporarily forgotten. The frost on the floor continued to spread.

“Not much,” the Dark Man said. Daisuke heard him snap his fingers again. In instant response Nat-chan screamed, and Daisuke was lifted as by an unseen force, knocked away from her by a wave of freezing air. A constellation of data chips arose, and Natsu’s body went limp. She fell to the floor and remained motionless. “And now…” the Dark Man said, “I’m pretty sure you can’t do anything.”

Daisuke picked himself up quickly. “Nat-chan!” As he got to his feet, the noise of the data chips rose to a shrill jangling. One after another they launched at him, stinging his face and hands as he tried to force his way through the swarm. Stumbling under the assault, Daisuke was still able to get back to Nat-chan’s side. Her stillness frightened him.

“That’s a little more of her data than she can afford to lose,” the Dark Man said, still laughing a little at the spectacle of Daisuke fighting against the chips. “I wonder how long it will take for her to fail completely.”

“What do you mean?” Daisuke asked, looking down at her pale face. Her eyes were open and looking at him, her lips trembled as if trying to speak.

“I mean that I’ve as good as killed another of your Digimon friends.” Daisuke jerked his head up, to look at the Dark Man with unbelieving anger. “But look at the bright side!” the Dark Man continued. “She won’t take nearly as long as your other girl. Or the rest of the Chosen Children…”

For a moment Daisuke could say nothing. He only knelt there, his shins against the frozen floor, shaking with a terror equal to his impotent fury. The Dark Man grinned back at him. Finally Daisuke swallowed. In a low voice he said, “I don’t care what you are, or how strong you are. Somehow… Somehow, I _will_ wipe that smile off your face.”

“Good luck,” the Dark Man answered softly, eyes glittering. Daisuke turned back to Natsu, gingerly lifting her a little off the floor, cradling her upper body. She was very cold. As he gazed down at her, the tears returning to his eyes, he dimly heard that hateful chuckle. A chill breeze began to blow in the already frigid room, and the frost was beginning to climb the nearest wall. After a minute or so Daisuke was able to tear his eyes away from the face of the dying girl, but the Dark Man was gone.

Looking back to her, he saw through the blur of tears that one of her feet was starting to fade into nothingness, slowly, giving off an effervescence of data particles.


	105. Catch and Release

_“And they could harry the brain itself, driving it to extremes more terrible than madness; and could take away the dearest treasures of memory and leave unutterable foulness in their place.” – Clark Ashton Smith, “The Isle of the Torturers”_

The six children and their partners met up at Yamato’s apartment, chosen because his father was at work and would be for some time. They’d been a little reluctant to allow BlackTailmon into one of their homes, but it couldn’t be helped.

“She says she doesn’t know if there are any other places besides the one we visited,” Taichi began, indicating her.

He could tell from his friends’ faces that they understood. Unless they came across any other leads, their only chance of finding the missing Chosen Children was to return to the building where Lilithmon had set up her grisly exhibits.

“The police didn’t find anything there,” Jou said, not so much to protest as to simply state a fact.

“Maybe not,” Koshiro said, “but we don’t know how intensive their search was. We only made an anonymous call. Maybe they didn’t expect to find anything.”

“If we did go back,” Yamato said, “we could make sure we looked the whole place over.”

“That’s right,” added Gabumon. “As Digimon, we’ll be able to get through any walls or doors.”

“I just hope we can find them this time,” Mimi said quietly. “I couldn’t stand it being like last night again.”

The others were silent a moment, expressions solemn. Failing to locate their friends would be harder to face than any new battle or horror. Sora happened to catch a glimpse of Taichi’s face, and felt that she should say something.

“Even if Hikari-chan and the others aren’t there,” she suggested, “we might be able to find information about where they are.”

“We can get to the Digital World, if they happen to be there,” Koshiro said, remembering something Gennai had said before leaving. “We could use a D-3 belonging to one of the Chosen Children from New Year’s.” For the moment he neglected to add that if, on the other hand, Daisuke and the rest were in some place neither the Real nor Digital World, there was no known way to reach them.

“Alright,” Taichi said. “So we have to go back.” He paused. No one contradicted him, and he continued, “We should go now, as soon as possible. The faster we can rescue everyone the better.”

“I agree,” Yamato said, “But we need a plan.”

“What are we going to do about that Digimon?” Jou asked, pointing to BlackTailmon, who still said nothing. “We can’t really just follow her there. It could be a trap, and even if it’s not she might help the enemy.”

“You know how to get in, then?” BlackTailmon asked.

“We got out last night,” Taichi reminded her, his look suspicious. “Getting back in won’t be a problem.”

“Maybe one of us should keep watch on her?” Mimi suggested. The others considered, unsure. It occurred to many of them that they’d never taken prisoners in the past.

“BlackTailmon isn’t of any real use to us,” Koshiro said, using the name the Digimon Analyzer had provided. “If we keep her out of trouble until the battle’s over…”

“And then we just let her go,” said Taichi. The others looked at him, a little surprised that he didn’t seem irritated by the idea after his threats on the previous evening. They didn’t know about the inner turmoil he’d been facing since cornering his enemy. He had decided that, whatever BlackTailmon’s past offences may have been, he would not allow himself to kill her in cold blood. He doubted if she would have the same scruples, and there was nothing he wanted to have in common with her and the greater monsters behind her.

Meanwhile, the object of discussion remained uncharacteristically silent. But she was listening to the conversation intently, while in the back of her mind she continued to mull over the ideas that had come to her back on the mainland. Somehow the Chosen Children had achieved the impossible and destroyed Lilithmon. And that fact raised the first serious doubts in BlackTailmon’s mind. If they could defeat Lilithmon, there was a chance that they might come out ahead after all, which could be bad news for her.

Now, imagining a power stronger and more terrible than Lilithmon’s was a stretch on BlackTailmon’s limited imagination, but she had reason to believe that it existed. Callous though she was, she sometimes shivered to remember the image of the black, smiling figure seen in the dim firelight of the Arkham woods. The Dark Man had commanded Lilithmon, and it was his power that the Chosen Children would face next. Surely against him they would fail… unless they didn’t. BlackTailmon had become uncertain now as to which side might win in the end, and she needed to make sure that she was on it – or at least not afoul of it – when the time came.

As she listened, the Chosen Children continued to determine the details of their strategy. Once everything was ready they would start out. With them they would take BlackTailmon, for part of their mission, and take the burden of their cautious hopes and unspoken fears, until the mission’s unknown end.

***

Awareness returned more quickly than it had originally. By this time Miyako’s pain was nearly gone, though many places were still tingling unpleasantly as the poison slowly wore off. Her period of unconsciousness had been dreamless, although at first the whispered voices might have been the start of something unreal. Then there was a light touch on her shoulder, and she opened her eyes. The room was still dark, somewhere between that first total blackness and the lucid twilight that had preceded the Troopmon’s arrival.

In the dimness she could make out a pair of human forms. Was she actually dreaming, then? Or did she really see Hikari and Ken standing there in front of her?

“Miyako-san, thank goodness you’re alright,” Hikari whispered, seeing her awake.

“H-Hikari-chan,” Miyako stammered, her voice sounding a little louder than she had intended it to. “But how…?”

“We can explain later,” Ken whispered, with a nervous glance over his shoulder. Hikari nodded as she set about unlatching one of Miyako’s handcuffs with her hairclip.

“Right now we need to find the others,” she said.

Miyako was fully awake now, no doubt about it. What had happened she couldn’t guess, but against all odds her friends were here. Thinking about it, she was actually a little glad of the relative darkness. As it was, she blushed a little at Ken-kun’s seeing her in what was practically a state of undress.

The liberation process took a while. Hikari fumbled for some time with the first handcuff, and a briefer time with the second, but eventually both were off and Miyako was – to an extent – free. She groaned a little as she rubbed her sore wrists, but didn’t ask any of the many burning questions she had. Something in her friends’ bearing made it seem essential to keep quiet.

They led her towards a deeper darkness that marked the room’s exit, much narrower now than when the Raremon had made its entrance. Hikari went ahead, followed by Ken, who again took Miyako’s hand as he had in the tunnel beneath the surface of the Digital World.

“We don’t think they know we’ve escaped,” he whispered as they walked quietly down a narrow hallway. “Motomiya and the rest should be nearby.”

“How did you—” Miyako began, but stopped with a gasp at a sound from up ahead. Ken’s hand slipped from her grip and caught her wrist as if in warning. It was hard to say exactly what they had heard. All was silent now that the three of them had stopped moving, and nothing could be seen in the blackness of the corridor.

Then there was a sudden change. As one moment passed to the next Miyako found herself once again in a room lit by gray pseudo-light. A handcuff had replaced the hand around her wrist – around both wrists. She might have believed herself cruelly snatched from the midst of a dream, but the strange thing was that Ken and Hikari really were there. They didn’t say anything, only stood there, smiling.

“Hikari-chan… Ken-kun?” Miyako murmured, but they didn’t answer. A few seconds passed. She felt a little like squirming under their unreadable gaze. Her discomfort grew as they continued to stare, and in looking nervously back at them she began to feel afraid. There was something strange about the way they looked. Their skin was very pale, even for this pallid world. Against the dark background they had a startling whiteness that they had not had earlier. Or was there some color creeping in after all? Not a normal one – a color with hints of blue or green. Now their skin looked puffy, and she realized that there was a definite change coming over them.

The change accelerated. She could see now what was wrong: they were dead. And yet they stood, stepped closer, as the puffiness sank into an unnatural gauntness. Miyako pulled back on the handcuffs, but there was no slack. She was not handcuffed; her hands were encased in the stone pillars. She didn’t have any words for a situation like this – all that came out were little screams and whimpers as the decaying things closed in. When little pieces of them began to fall off, she squeezed her eyes tight against what had to be a nightmare.

For a few seconds she saw and heard nothing. Then her eyes forced themselves open a little. The horrors were still there. The bony claw of Ken’s living cadaver fell on her shoulder and held her still with inhuman strength. Dead Hikari’s smile widened as she raised her hand, the moist flesh eaten through by invisible worms. The hand came forward, and in a voice that blended Hikari’s normally sweet tones with unmistakable evil its owner said, “Open up, Miyako-san.”

Something seemed to snap when that thing touched her lips. Choking on a scream of revulsion, Miyako noticed that again the room had reset itself. A new clarity cut through the nightmare quality of her experience – again her hands were only cuffed, not locked in stone. Hikari and Ken weren’t there, either dead or alive, but there was something, something maybe more terrible than the living corpses.

It wasn’t like anything she or her friends had ever seen before. A single bloodshot eye, nearly a yard across, glared at her. She could even see herself reflected in its green iris and black pupil. From a bulbous body stretched spidery, segmented legs, claws clicking on the stone floor. But worst of all were the tentacles. They were everywhere – green, nasty things in constant feverish motion, squirming around her and on her. She writhed about in a panicked attempt to dislodge them, but they continued to crawl and nauseously tickle.

“Oh, stop that,” a wheedling voice said, seeming to come from the bug-thing. “It’s no use, you know. You’re already…” and it broke off into tittering laughter. Even as it was speaking Miyako had noticed an unmoving _something_ on her back, as if it were somehow glued to her. Long purplish appendages reached around from behind her, flickered before her in febrile motion, one of them jabbing her in the stomach. Something awful was latched onto her.

Crying out with the sudden pain of being poked and the disgust and horror of it all, Miyako noticed a cloudiness coming over her vision. The monster before her faded, grew insubstantial, and disappeared, while her sensations also seemed to drain slowly away. She couldn’t feel the writhing tendrils or the solid mass at her back. Eventually even the handcuffs had disappeared, and she stood alone and shivering in a gray featureless void.

Her pulse still pounding, she looked quickly about her, but there was only grayness in every direction.

“Wh…what’s going on!?” she cried. “Am I… am I going crazy?”

A profound coldness went through her when the question was answered by a little giggle in the otherwise absolute silence. It started low and ended louder, but she had no idea what direction it came from. It seemed to sound right in her ear, like the whine of a mosquito, but she couldn’t be sure that it wasn’t actually inside her head.

“You’re not crazy,” the thing that laughed said in the whining, droning voice of the insectoid horror. “Not yet. Can’t have you go crazy yet. That will take time, yes, take time. We have a long way to go.”

“What… is… this?” Miyako whimpered.

“I’m inside,” the too-close voice said. “What don’t you want to see? What don’t you want to feel? Your brain is my toy! Here, see – remember that partner Digimon.”

Startled, Miyako did automatically as it asked. She thought of Haw… of Ho… but she couldn’t remember his name. Desperately she tried to bring up an image of what he looked like, but there was only an absence at her side. She thought of the miniature bed at home where his smaller form would rest – only to find that the thing she loved was a writhing ball of spider legs and tentacles, with one eye that glared at her…

“No!”

Her exclamation died away in strange echoes, followed by the titter of the Thing. “Not crazy yet,” it cooed, “Not crazy _yet_ …”


	106. From the Sidelines

_“Mimes, in the form of God on high,_   
_Mutter and mumble low,_   
_And hither and thither fly;_   
_Mere puppets they, who come and go_   
_At bidding of vast formless things_   
_That shift the scenery to and fro.”_   
_– Edgar Allan Poe, “The Conqueror Worm”_

The shadows of evening fell swiftly as the day drew on, doubtless due to the still overcast sky. The physical darkness was augmented by a tenseness in the muggy air, as if the city were holding its breath awaiting the atrocities that another night would bring. As far as the public was aware, the previous night had only seen the recent rash of mysterious sexual assaults continue. But this, rather than raise hopes that the threats from another world were diminishing, instead seemed ominous.

Whether they admitted it or not, people knew in their hearts that this strange plague would not vanish quietly. They all felt that there was some explosive crisis coming. The rising tide of their dreams proclaimed it. Some evil power was growing, always growing. All felt it, all saw it manifest in the relentless onslaught of nightmares.

And besides the Chosen Children, few felt it more intensely than Professor Takenouchi Haruhiko. This was in spite of the fact that he had been in Kyoto since before the violence began in Tokyo. He had just returned to the capital this evening, having begged off his duties at the university for at least a few days. As the only real academic who had come into direct contact with Digimon in the past, he’d had his request readily granted. _The Digimon Critic returns to save the day,_ he thought, though he was in no mood to laugh.

It was his family that brought him home, of course. He had more cause to fear for their safety than perhaps anyone else with loved ones in the city that had again become a sort of warzone – his daughter was actively fighting those battles. Haruhiko hadn’t always been the biggest presence in Sora’s life. He loved her, and her mother as well, but circumstances – and not always ones beyond his control – had kept him from them for long periods. It had put a strain, one never really acknowledged before that incredible summer of 1999, on Sora’s relationship with both her parents.

Now that he had begun spending part of his time learning about the Digimon and their world, he and Sora had something in common. Ironically, she seemed to need him less now than when they’d been more distant, but he had sworn to himself that he would be there to support her in times like these.

He didn’t know what he could really do to help in a material sense. Anthropologists were not the sort of scientists people looked to in a crisis. When it came to Digimon, the greatest insight he could offer was that many of them seemed to draw upon primal human concepts familiar to him from world mythology. He recalled saying something to that effect when he first met Inoue Miyako. It struck a grim chord now, as he recalled prattling about evil spirits and gates to the netherworld. Those gates were opened wide now. The recently defeated Digimon that had been terrorizing Tokyo clearly corresponded to the demons of Western religion.

And then there was that other thing. Haruhiko had managed to get hold of some details as to what the assault victims had witnessed. It would seem that here, too, was an entity drawn from Western myth. Its goat-like features and terrible lust surely pointed towards the Greek god Pan, the god that lent its name to the English word “panic” – the stark, unreasoning fear that falls suddenly upon people in lonely places. With such a horrific deity on the loose, there was good cause to be afraid. This thing threatened more than simple death… and Haruhiko’s daughter was among its class of preferred targets.

Was it this that brought him back to Tokyo? He couldn’t say. Probably he should have come sooner, despite his reason telling him that there was nothing he could really do to help the children in their battle. He couldn’t shake off an obscure sense that he might be needed. Maybe his past research could provide some benefit to Sora and the others, even if he couldn’t imagine what it might be.

By the time he arrived at the apartment the day seemed already spent, though in fact the sun was still above the horizon, even if no one could see it behind the pall of cloud. It didn’t feel much like a homecoming. Toshiko was there to greet him, though she looked wan and a little worried. With her help he made inquiries, but only learned that there would be no chance to help out this night. Like Sora, the Chosen Children had already left their homes, and had taken their partner Digimon with them.

***

Hiraga Ayaki’s checkered career had taken him to many places, and somewhere along the way he had acquired a foreigner’s habit of occasionally being less than observant of business etiquette. He’d quickly grown tired of sitting and waiting for results, and had caught up with the man who had gone to see whether there was some method of tracking down the cat Digimon. There didn’t seem to be much for him to contribute. Familiar though he was with standard technology, the systems in the group’s headquarters differed from anything he had seen before. Still, he was tired of inaction.

An hour or so dragged on without a solution. Then without warning one of the nearby computer screens began to flicker, and what it displayed was inundated by a flood of static. When the screen cleared, it was to reveal the smiling face of the Dark Man. His features were shrouded in shadow, only the eyes and mouth standing out with distinctness, and there was a background of blackness behind him.

Hiraga took a closer look at the screen, wondering a little at how the man had managed to hijack the computer like that from whatever hole he was in. The man standing beside him showed no surprise, only nodded his head once in a gesture of reverence and waited attentively.

“Still no luck playing hide-and-seek, Hiraga-san?” the Dark Man said, his voice perfectly clear over the computer’s speakers.

“Yes,” Hiraga answered, not sure if he could be heard on the other end. “There doesn’t seem to be a way to pinpoint that Digimon’s location without searching for it manually, but we will keep trying.”

“Well…” the Dark Man said, grasping his chin in an exaggerated attitude of thought. “I could stop repressing the Digimon’s electronic interference. Then at least you’d know if you were getting warmer. But no… the one is too small to make a difference, and the other could wipe out all those computers that you aren’t putting to good use. Hmm…”

Hiraga felt he should say something. “I suppose that, if all else fails, search parties might be organized.”

“Now there’s an idea! But now that you’ve thought of it there’s no need. BlackTailmon is coming to you.”

“She’s returning to the building?”

“Indeed. She’s on her way, and she’s not alone. It seems the Chosen Children are better seekers than yourself.” The Dark Man laughed. The image on the screen flickered a little, perhaps coincidentally. “Oh, don’t look like such a sore loser, Hiraga-san! They may not even get there – you should see why before too long. But you should be ready for whatever happens, all the same.”

Hiraga took a second to process what he’d been told. He considered asking what he and his compatriots could do with all their Digimon dead, but remembered the opponents were a bunch of kids, and thought it better to keep his mouth shut. Maybe the Dark Man guessed what he was thinking – his shadowy head was shaking slowly with amused contempt.

“Keep up the good work,” he said, and then the static filled the screen once more. When it receded, the old windows were up as if nothing had happened. Hiraga turned to the foreign man beside him.

“Do you have any suggestions on a plan of action?” The man said nothing; maybe he hadn’t understood. Hiraga turned away with an inward sigh and stalked out of the room, trying to think of what preparations there could possibly be to make.

***

Demon sat upon his throne, the crimson claws of one hand clicking impatiently against one of the chair’s stone arms. He had just returned to the throne room from another unsuccessful attempt to open a gateway out of the World of Darkness. The clean, honest night of the Digital and Real Worlds – so unlike the eternal twilight of this world – would be coming on soon. Perhaps in a few hours the time would be right to try again.

Though irritated, Demon was not enraged at the latest failure. The barriers of the worlds were weakening at a steady pace. With his immense power it wouldn’t be much longer before a hole could be punched in the fabric of space. He had in fact been expecting this latest ritual to succeed, but the lingering glimpse it gave of the Digital World had faded at the last moment.

When the time came he would waste no time in entering the human world, and there would be no holding back, no bargaining, and no mere handful of minions. He and his legions would destroy all in sight, including the Chosen Children, once they inevitably arrived. Ichijouji Ken’s Dark Seed would be his, and then—

To his annoyance his thoughts were interrupted by the appearance of a pale shape that soared into the room through one of the arches. It was one of his IceDevimon servants, and the message it brought had to be important to require such an intrusion.

“What?” Demon said. The messenger knelt, one grotesquely long arm resting across its knee.

“My apologies, Demon-sama,” it breathed. “Lookouts have reported that one of the Deep Ones has made a journey to the plateau of Leng. We were told to keep you informed of their activities.”

Demon’s eyes narrowed in thought. Dagomon’s minions rarely strayed far from their dark ocean. That one should travel as far as Leng was unheard of. Doubtless it was part of whatever the High Priest was plotting. Ordinarily Demon took no interest in Dagomon’s esoteric business, but if the master of the Deep Ones was indeed behind the weakening of the barriers, this deserved to be looked into. Demon’s mysterious visitor of the other day, Dagomon’s ally, had come offering an alliance, access to the human world… and to the Dark Seed. He had not returned yet for Demon’s answer. Perhaps he would not return at all. It was better to take action now than to wait.

“What part of Leng?” he asked.

“Its destination was thought to be the old monastery.”

“Then send spies,” Demon said. “Find out what is happening there and report back to me.”

The IceDevimon bowed low and took to the sky, gliding down from the tower to see that the Demon Lord’s orders were carried out.


	107. Reception

_“What we did see – for the mists were indeed all too malignly thinned – was something altogether different, and immeasurably more hideous and detestable.” – H. P. Lovecraft,_ At the Mountains of Madness

Two figures, each just managing to pass for a man, faced each other in an unlit side street. What they really were few could say – things fouler than mere men, at home in the paltry darkness of the alley as in the ultimate darkness from which they had crawled. One of them pulled the hat from its head and let it fall to the ground. It could not pass for human anymore. The curved horns were beginning to lengthen, and the snout to become more pronounced.

“Yes, what do you want?” Panimon’s bestial voice asked. “I’m on my way back to that island.”

“There’s no longer any need, my friend,” said the human voice of the Dark One. “The Chosen Children are nearby, and drawing nearer as we speak.”

“All the more reason to hurry,” Panimon said, his gaze not leaving the other’s shining eyes as he ripped off the remainder of his disguise. “Just point me in the right direction.”

“There’s still time,” the Dark One said. “I wanted to caution you before you went to work.”

“Caution _me_?” Panimon answered with a laugh.

“Oh, just to be thorough, of course. After all, you’re up against two Ultimate Digimon and their friends, a combined force that defeated a Demon Lord only yesterday.”

“Demon Lord,” Panimon sneered. “What is any fallen angel beside a god of darkness? But if it makes you feel better, I’ll be _careful._ ” He raised his head to the sky, and the wings on his back began to grow and become sail-like. Then he paused, and looked back at the Dark Man. “Tell me,” he said, “How much longer will he ‘await the time?’”

“Not very long at all,” the Dark One said. “Not even by human standards. You’re just doing a bit of last-minute house cleaning.”

Panimon laughed low in his throat, a sound few besides the Dark Man could hear without flinching. “Glad to help,” he said. “This is my kind of work. So…” The slitted eyes smoldered with anticipation. “Where are they?”

***

There had been some debate among the Chosen Children about how best to approach the enemy base, if the building where they’d fought Lilithmon was, in fact, still a base. They thought it was possible that the police found nothing there because the group had relocated after Lilithmon’s defeat. If that was the case, then they weren’t headed into a trap but into bitter disappointment. Assuming the building was still occupied by the enemy, the teens and their partners wanted to keep the element of surprise if possible. The problem was that they didn’t know how many or what sort of lookouts the still anonymous organization might have.

By the time they’d left Yamato’s apartment, the Chosen had decided that speed rather than an attempt at stealth would have to be key – for all they knew, there were people tracking their every move already. They remembered those photos on the basement wall too well to dismiss the possibility.

Despite their hurry to get underway, the plan was as well thought out as any they’d made in the past. Having failed at their first rescue attempt, they didn’t want to leave anything to chance. The other six Chosen Children, their partners either defeated or worse, must be saved at all costs. There was no telling… but they all tried not to dwell on that.

It had been decided that only the Ultimate Digimon, accompanied by Taichi and Yamato, would actually enter the building. WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon combined should be enough for any remaining threats. It would be up to the rest of their friends to intercept any of the gang’s members that might try to escape from the place with information that could lead to the missing Chosen Children – or perhaps even with those Chosen Children themselves.

Now two huge shapes sped through the sky over the black waters of the bay. Big as they were, they were still dwarfed by the night about them and the gleaming city that awaited them, and the near-dozen smaller shapes they bore were invisible to all but themselves. Conversation among them was sparse – at that speed the wind was loud, and the situation tense.

Sora, sheltered somewhat from the wind by Garudamon’s curving talons, would have liked to send a message to Yamato and the others via D-Terminal, but knew that this wasn’t the time for it. Probably the beeping of the device wouldn’t have even been audible. Beside Sora sat Jou and Gomamon, and BlackTailmon crouched low, peering out at the rapidly approaching city.

They were in the rear, following AtlurKabuterimon’s lead. Koshiro had taken pains to acquaint himself with the area around the target building, and his partner would be first to reach it. From there, the Ultimate-level Digimon could make their entrance, while AtlurKabuterimon and Lilimon again took to the sky, where Garudamon would later join them to help survey the site from above. Before then, Garudamon’s job was to drop Jou and his partner – the only Digimon of the group incapable of flight – some distance from the building, where they could guard BlackTailmon until the dust had settled.

Before leaving Yamato’s apartment, Piyomon and her partner had closely studied the place picked out for their landing on Koshiro’s computer. Things looked a little different in person. Still, as Tokyo Tower loomed larger and Garudamon’s speed slackened, Sora was able to locate the intended place. Hearing her partner’s yell and seeing her point downwards, Garudamon nodded her great helmeted head and began her descent.

While AtlurKabuterimon remained aloft and swung towards the fateful building, Garudamon landed in the wooded midst of Shiba Park. She knelt among the trees, allowing her passengers to disembark. Only Sora remained in her partner’s palm, taking the opportunity to stand and stretch her limbs after the rather long flight.

“If anything happens,” she said to Jou, “message me. I’ll be checking my D-Terminal.”

“You got it,” he answered, with a smile that immediately faded as he looked towards BlackTailmon.

“No problem,” Gomamon said. “Leave everything to us.”

“Alright.” Sora mustered in her turn a smile she couldn’t feel. She suddenly remembered having passed through this same park four years ago, looking for the eighth Chosen Child. As important as that search had seemed and had been at the time, it could not match the grimness and the urgency of this one.

“Can I say something?”

Sora had been turning to face Garudamon and signal her readiness to leave, but stopped at the unexpected sound of BlackTailmon’s voice. The four of them looked at the little feline. She hadn’t spoken since leaving Odaiba, apparently either thinking to herself – which could be reason to worry – or not wanting to aggravate an already awkward situation. 

“Yeah, what is it?” Gomamon asked.

BlackTailmon’s eyes flicked in his direction a moment, and then to Sora and Jou. She inhaled slowly. This could be another of those tricky moments, and she wanted to pick her words carefully.

Sora waited, a little impatiently. She had a vague wish to take off again and not to linger. Maybe it was just because she didn’t feel like conversing with this problematic Digimon, or because she wanted to be in position and near the others if and when the time for action came. And maybe part of it was a desire to be out of the dark shadows of the park.

“I’ve been thinking,” BlackTailmon began, “and I think that if you guys let me go later I might not be safe. I’ve seen what happens when someone disappoints—” Again she couldn’t think of the right term. “— _them_ , and I may not get off easy after all this.”

“Well, that’s not really our…” Gomamon began, then hesitated. He looked at Jou.

“Are you suggesting something?” Jou asked BlackTailmon.

She debated whether to push her luck, decided not to. For now she would only hint at a possible defection. She didn’t want to commit to anything before the moment of truth came, the point where she could figure out for sure which side was going to be the winning one, the one she wanted to be on.

“No, nothing.”

There were a few moments of silence. Jou turned again to Sora.

“You can follow the others if you want,” he told her. “We’ll keep things under control here. I only wish I could be there to help look for Takeru and the others.”

Sora nodded, grateful that the time had come. She looked up at Garudamon.

“Let’s—” she began, but was again interrupted. This time the voice was not BlackTailmon’s silky purr. Instead it was the worst voice Sora had ever heard, made more terrible by the fact that she had heard it before.

“Ah… Here we are at last.”

Jou started and looked quickly into the darkness under the trees where the voice had come from. Gomamon also stared in that direction, as did BlackTailmon, her dark fur bristling. Garudamon remained looking down at Sora, who stood as if frozen. All the color had drained out of her face.

“Who – who’s there?” Jou asked.

“Show yourself!” Gomamon shouted, with an uncharacteristic quaver.

“I’m right here,” the awful voice answered. Jou thought that it sounded like the grunts of a huge animal, but it was undoubtedly speaking in Japanese. There came a low, chilling laugh. “You’ve been looking for me, I think.” There was a swishing of branches, and Sora spun around. Simultaneously she and the others saw a bulky form distinguish itself from the surrounding shadows. Its essential features remained as they had in her nightmare of the metal table and the computer screen that was really a window on the void. She had no desire to make out any further details, but now the thing had emerged into the twilight, and they saw it complete.

The body suited the voice: the monstrous and animalistic twisted into a mockery of the human. The head was that of a horned and bearded goat, though its slit-like eyes and the upturned corners of its mouth gave it an expression of sly cunning and cruelty. The chest was broad and flanked by bulbous shoulders. Pointed, featureless wings rose behind. Thick black fur covered the shoulders, the forearms, and everything from the abdomen to the knees.

“Who are you?” Jou asked, though he knew the name did not matter. He and Sora both knew exactly what significance this Digimon had in recent events.

BlackTailmon did not. Earlier she had thought it likely that she was the last Digimon in this world not allied with the Chosen Children. She didn’t know what this one’s intentions were, so for the moment all she decided to do was keep quiet and stay low to the ground.

“You can call me Panimon,” the monster said to Jou. “And you are the Chosen Children, of course. I’ve been intensely eager to meet you…” He winked at Sora. “…again.”

Sora hadn’t shared her dream with the others, and Jou didn’t understand the reference, but he did hear the jest in Panimon’s tone, and at that moment part of his fear and hers ebbed away, smothered by indignation. This creature was no uglier than other Digimon they had encountered, and that it should stand here and smirk at them after what it had done to Iori’s girlfriend and all the others was unforgivable.

“Gomamon,” Jou said as he reached for his Digivice.

“Alright! **Gomamon, Evolve! … Ikkakumon!** ”

“Get down, Sora,” Garudamon murmured, resting her hand on the ground. “I will fight too.” A little reluctantly, Sora hopped down to the grass. Perhaps Garudamon sensed her hesitation. The great bird didn’t know what exactly it was that this new enemy threatened, but she did know that it was something appalling. She caught her partner’s eye. “I will protect you, Sora,” she promised.

“I know,” the girl answered.

Garudamon rose to a standing position and set herself between Panimon and her partner, sturdy as a brick wall. Meanwhile, Ikkakumon wasn’t wasting any time.

**“Harpoon Vulcan!”**

Panimon made no move as the missile launched into the air and shed its conical casing. Only when it had found its target and started back down did he reach up a hand. With one motion he swatted it out of the air, his hairy fist closing around it as he brought it to the ground. There was an explosion and a shower of grass and dirt. Panimon stood as before, undamaged.

“Now, Perfect level!” Jou said, for the moment unfazed.

Panimon sneered. The hand that had dispatched Harpoon Vulcan plucked a small object from his remaining article of clothing, the black belt at his waist. In a moment he had brought it to his lips, and Jou and the others could see it was a simple curved horn. Before Ikkakumon could evolve further, or Garudamon could step forward to interfere, the sound came.

***

“Do you see anything, AtlurKabuterimon?”

“Nothing yet.”

“That’s worrisome,” Koshiro said under his breath.

“Hey,” Mimi said, peering into the brightly lit night in an effort to spot where Lilimon had gotten to, “Do you think maybe they don’t know we’re coming?”

“I don’t know, but I doubt it,” Koshiro answered. “It would be logical for them to assume that we would be returning to the building eventually. And they probably have spies of some kind.”

“Mm.” Giving up on finding her partner in the glare of the city lights, Mimi turned her gaze downward. Standing atop AtlurKabuterimon’s broad back, her view of the streets was limited, but from what she could see Koshiro’s partner was right. There was no sign of activity at or near the building they watched.

There was a tone from Koshiro’s D-Terminal. At the same moment Mimi thought that she caught another sound in the distance, something shrill and unpleasant. She didn’t know why, but it made her shiver.

“Taichi-san is in position,” Koshiro said. “Now—”

If he said anything else the words were drowned out when the street exploded below, and the lower stories of the enemy’s building were engulfed in flame.


	108. Menaced

_“…for one instant I saw a Form, shaped in dimness before me, which I will not farther describe. But the symbol of this form may be seen in ancient sculptures, and in paintings which survived beneath the lava, too foul to be spoken of… as a horrible and unspeakable shape, neither man nor beast…” – Arthur Machen, “The Great God Pan”_

BlackTailmon felt numb and limp; the only clear sensations were the continued ringing in her ears and the unreasoning fear that gripped her. And it was unreasoning. It took her a few moments to even recall what had just happened. As she looked about with blurred vision it came back to her. It must have been an attack of some kind. The Digimon’s horn had amplified its heart-stopping shriek into a weapon, fortunately directed past BlackTailmon rather than at her, the Chosen Children’s partners apparently taking the full force of the blast. At a glance she couldn’t see the hulking forms of Ikkakumon or Garudamon. They might have been obliterated.

That wasn’t her concern anyway. She tried to focus and figure out what she should be concerned about, but before she could really collect her wits she realized that Panimon was standing nearby, and looking down at her.

“Good, you survived,” he said. Maybe he was trying to sound solicitous, but that voice wasn’t built for it. “What about you, Chosen Children? I trust you’re still among the living.”

At first there was no response, but Panimon surveyed the scene with satisfaction. From his higher vantage point, with senses not at all affected by his lethal scream, he could see that the partner Digimon had not been destroyed but had been reduced to their Baby II forms. Of the two Chosen Children, the boy lay motionless, probably unconscious rather than dead. The girl was stirring – Garudamon had shielded her somewhat. Panimon smiled his terrible smile.

Sora twitched, making short, jerky motions as if repeatedly startled. For her part, she felt terribly afraid, though what exactly she feared was vague. That ear-splitting screech had filled her with a desire to flee from this place as fast as possible, but her body refused to answer the urgent signals of her brain. She tried to get a grip on herself. In a few moments she’d recovered sufficiently from the effects of the attack to think clearly and control her motions. She remembered Panimon, sat up quickly in the grass, and began to get to her feet, looking around for her friends.

Pyocomon she spotted immediately as a splash of pink on the dark grass. Kneeling beside her partner Sora was relieved to see movement. With that fear laid to rest she looked up to see what Panimon was doing. He still stood near BlackTailmon, the small black Digimon seeming tiny by comparison. Some distance to the left, Jou and Pukamon were out cold.

“Glad to see you’re alright,” Panimon said. “I’ll check your friend for you…”

He took a step towards Jou.

“Hey!” Sora shouted, standing up again. Panimon stopped and looked at her. A chill went through her then, and she had trouble finding her voice. There was something very terrible in confronting a creature that until now might only have existed in a nightmare.

“What?” Panimon asked. “Do you not want me to? What would you do if I didn’t care what you wanted?”

Sora glanced quickly down at Pyocomon, who apparently had lapsed back into unconsciousness. The answer to the question was that she could do nothing. A full-grown human could not have stood up to a beast with Panimon’s physique, and since he was a Digimon there was no telling what his true strength might be.

While the silence lengthened, BlackTailmon stayed crouched where she was, a little behind Panimon, unsure of what to do. Was Panimon a possible ally? He had to be working with the Dark One like the rest, didn’t he? She wondered if a fight was coming, or if that soundwave attack had ended it before it began. It might be wise to put some distance between her and the group. Slowly she began to slink away.

Quicker almost than the eye could follow, Panimon whipped round and caught the feline Digimon with one great hand, pinning her to the turf. BlackTailmon cried out in protest and tried instinctively to wriggle out of his grasp, but may as well not have bothered.

“Where are you going?” Panimon asked.

“S-sorry.” BlackTailmon stammered a little. She wasn’t used to apologizing. Not daring to make another move, she offered no resistance when Panimon curled one of his thick fingers around her right hind leg.

Sora, even standing at a distance, heard the snap. BlackTailmon’s yowl of pain followed, and it was hard to tell which was more shocking. Combined, the two sounds made the already keyed-up girl’s legs weak. Panimon looked at her, flashed a goat’s smile, but said nothing.

In the meantime BlackTailmon was trying to function through the agony. There was a bush nearby, and trees beyond it. She started crawling. If she could just get under cover… Long seconds passed. She had almost made it when the great hairy hand fell on her again and dragged her back to Panimon’s feet, stringing together little jolts of pain in her broken leg.

She had played this game before, though never in this role. The thought didn’t occur to her. She wondered frantically why this was happening to her. It didn’t seem right. While she lay there shivering two fingers took hold of one of her forelegs, and snapped it without effort.

Sora looked on, sick with horror. She had no reason to care for BlackTailmon, but the display of inhuman cruelty tore at her heart. “How – how could you—!?” she cried.

“You’re not going to save her?” Panimon asked. Sora could only stare, tears forming in her eyes. “Then we’ll move on.” He raised BlackTailmon’s limp, twitching body and sank his teeth into it. The small black shape disintegrated.

Sora choked down a sob. Her hands clenched into fists as she tried to keep from giving in to the waves of nausea that swept through her. After a few moments she managed to meet Panimon’s gaze. She could feel his eyes going up and down her, and as the moments passed her disgust was slowly blotted out by icy fear.

“And now…” Panimon rumbled. He raised one cloven foot and took a slow, deliberate step in Sora’s direction. She felt a surge of panic that almost overwhelmed her, but managed to stay where she was. Helpless though she was, after seeing what had happened to BlackTailmon she could not imagine leaving Pyocomon and the others with this monster.

“Going to make it easy for me…” Panimon said, taking another step and another. Only now did Sora think of her D-Terminal. If she pulled it out could she send a distress message before he could reach her? No, she knew she couldn’t, but she had to try. In a moment she had it out and in her hand. In the next moment it was twitched out of her grasp and sent flying into the dusk under the trees. With a cry, she looked up and saw that one of Panimon’s hands was raised, and that its segmented fingers were fingers no longer. They had lengthened into boneless tendrils – were still lengthening slowly as she watched, fed by the fleshy cords back at his wrist. The four crazy digits twisted in the air, coming toward her.

Now she ran. The sight had unnerved her completely. She fled in the same general direction that the serpentine fingers had sent her D-Terminal, passing out of the open area into the midst of trees. This was not entirely a conscious action, and she didn’t stop to find the missing device in the grass. Her only thought was escape from the thing behind her.

Something swept in, low to the ground, entangling her feet, and she went down. Breaking her fall with her hands, she rebounded quickly, but no sooner was she on her feet than something knocked into her side, spinning her around. Moving noiselessly through the grass, Panimon had caught up with her. In the instant that her eyes took in the satyr body and the awful goat’s head, one of his hands nearly doubled in size and pinned her securely against a thick tree trunk. She struggled with all the frantic strength she could muster. It was no use.

“Time to give that dream a proper ending, hmm?” Panimon said. Sora didn’t respond; the calmness of despair was on her. The giant hand squeezed a little harder. The palm was entirely covered in fur – to Sora it felt like the pressure of a gargantuan tarantula upon her chest. Panimon’s evil eyes squinted at her as his face drew nearer to her own. She turned her head to the side to escape the hot stench of his breath.

“This is the reason I came to this world,” Panimon said. “All you delicious human girls…” Sora trembled with anger, fear, and revulsion as his long wet tongue slid slowly up her cheek. “Now… What should we do first?”

He got no answer. There was no response Sora was capable of giving. In another moment he might have decided for himself, but just as he finished speaking the sound of a rushing object could be heard in the sky, and all at once four beams of blue light were burning into him, cutting across his wings and back. With an annoyed grunt he tightened his grip on Sora and the tree – then that grip loosened as a speeding, bluish gray shape caught one of his wings and pulled him half to the ground.

“Sora!”

“Y-Yamato!” she gasped. Trying to balance herself after the abrupt withdrawal of Panimon’s hand, she saw him running toward her, apparently having jumped off MetalGarurumon just before the impact.

“Are you alright?” he asked as they moved together away from where the two Digimon grappled on the ground.

“Yeah, I think so,” Sora answered. “How—?”

“I got a message from Jou,” Yamato said. “That building…”

Before he could explain further their attention was drawn suddenly back to Panimon. He had somehow torn his wing free of MetalGarurumon’s jaws undamaged, and with a throaty cackle had rounded on his attacker. MetalGarurumon sprang forward, ready to rake with his front claws, but with blinding speed Panimon’s fist rose in an uppercut, smashing into MetalGarurumon’s chin and knocking him into the air, where he managed to stabilize himself.

“No, we can’t have a real fight here,” Panimon told him. “We don’t want to hurt your little humans. Don’t want to spoil them for me!”

As Panimon spoke his vestigial wings expanded, and with one powerful flap he kicked himself off the ground and launched towards MetalGarurumon. He caught Yamato’s partner about the stomach, and the momentum carried both Digimon above and beyond the tops of the park’s tallest trees. In a moment the combatants were hidden from sight by foliage and the night’s darkness.

Yamato and Sora looked to each other, unsure of what to do. As an automatic gesture Sora wiped at the side of her face, and shuddered with disgust when she noticed.

“Are you alright?” Yamato asked again.

“I’m much better now,” Sora answered. “Thank you, for coming back.”

“Of course,” Yamato smiled. “I owed it to you after that LadyDevimon fight.” In spite of everything, Sora couldn’t help but smile back. Before either of them spoke again they heard the rapid approach of footsteps, and saw Jou running towards them with Pukamon and Pyocomon cradled in his arms.

Sora went to meet him, and took Pyocomon. Her partner’s eyes were half-closed and her expression blank, but she responded feebly to Sora’s touch.

“MetalGarurumon and that other monster are headed in that direction,” Jou said, pointing with his free hand. “Not sure how we’re supposed to follow… Yamato, what happened at the enemy base?”

“I… don’t know,” Yamato answered. “There was a huge explosion just as we got there.” Suddenly his face looked drawn and grim. “Taichi and the others are still there, searching. I just hope…” His voice caught and trailed off.

“Let’s go,” Jou said. The news of the explosion had left him cold. “There… There might be something we can do to help.”

“Right,” Yamato nodded. He took off in the direction of the building, which happened to be the direction that the Digimon had been heading. Jou and Sora followed him, not slowed down by the burden of their partner Digimon.

“I’m sure they weren’t in there,” Sora said as they ran, but then instantly regretted putting their fears into words. She hoped that Yamato hadn’t heard. Whether he did or not, he made no response. He kept on running.


	109. Conflagration

_“There had been a collapse of several old brick buildings during a raid in which he has shared, and something about the wholesale loss of life, both of prisoners and of his companions, had peculiarly appalled him.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Horror at Red Hook”_

The whole scene was surreal and terrible, like another bad dream. Taichi was lucky to be alive, given how close he and WarGreymon had been when the explosion struck. In another second or two they would have been well into the parking garage and well within the range of the blast. Not even WarGreymon could have shielded his partner from something so utterly unexpected.

The fires were still burning. They lashed at the lower stories of the building, and black smoke billowed upwards into the already dark sky. The cause of all the destruction was unknown, but it was hard for the Chosen Children to avoid thinking it must have some connection with their arrival. Taichi didn’t much care what the exact explanation was. His concern – the concern of Koshiro and Mimi too – was that Hikari and the others might have been in the building, either killed or trapped by the explosion.

WarGreymon’s body was naturally resistant to great heat, and he had offered immediately to plunge into the inferno to search, but he could only penetrate so far, since using a Gaia Force or Brave Tornado might do more harm than good. He was in the midst of the burning building now, while Taichi stood sweating on the sidelines with clenched fists.

AtlurKabuterimon and his passengers were still aloft. At first they had been unsure of what to do, but before long people started to emerge onto the building’s roof, presumably trying to get away from the smoke and heat. The normal exits were all virtually impassable, blocked off by flame. The roof was the only avenue of escape.

Lilimon had rejoined her partner and the others, and it was decided that the Digimon would do what they could to help evacuate people from the roof. Many of the survivors were understandably frightened, and many didn’t like the look of AtlurKabuterimon, but the Chosen Children and Lilimon were there to reassure them. Koshiro and Mimi scanned the faces, hoping to recognize some of them, but none of the people were known to them. It occurred to Koshiro that they might unwittingly be abetting their enemies’ escape, but they didn’t have the option of not aiding the innocent.

For her part, Mimi was recalling the 2001 attack on the World Trade Center, which she and a group of American Chosen Children had been present for. It in turn had reminded her at the time of the August 1999 events in Odaiba. Tonight she was struck as never before by the omnipresence of injustice – would there ever be an end to the destruction of evil, which spared no continent and no world? …But she persisted in her efforts in spite of the sickness felt in her heart.

The evacuation progressed slowly, with AtlurKabuterimon ferrying frightened survivors from the rooftop to a nearby street that the fire and debris did not reach. Koshiro worried that the building might collapse at any moment. He couldn’t persuade Mimi to seek safety, though, and had to content himself with the knowledge that Lilimon would be there to save her partner if further disaster struck. What would happen to those civilians still on the roof in that event, he didn’t like to ponder.

Hopefully Taichi and WarGreymon could get clear if they needed to. Taichi’s reply to Koshiro’s concerned message had been purely perfunctory, and Koshiro was sure that all his focus was now on saving Daisuke and the rest if they were within the building. Koshiro personally doubted that they were. And if they had been, he doubted that they’d still be alive. Right now he did as Taichi did, and focused on the task at hand, trying to ignore the questions rumbling in the back of his mind.

***

MetalGarurumon’s position made it difficult for him to use his attacks to good effect. The most he could do was try and slow Panimon’s momentum, but before he could bring himself and his opponent to a stop Panimon hurled him away. His strength was phenomenal, and undoubtedly that of an Ultimate-level Digimon. MetalGarurumon stabilized himself and faced his enemy. They were in the sky now, and just clear of the park’s borders. MetalGarurumon knew that somewhere behind him the smoke was rising from the burning building.

“Come on then,” Panimon said. MetalGarurumon didn’t need to be told twice.

**“Cocytus Breath!”**

Panimon went into motion as MetalGarurumon reared back with icy energy gathering in his mouth. When the attack came, it passed harmlessly under its target, and was interrupted when Panimon’s huge, hammer-like fists came crashing down on MetalGarurumon’s armored head.

“Straighten up!” Panimon said. “This won’t be just any battle. Don’t you lose without giving me a struggle.”

MetalGarurumon said nothing and opened his mouth again, this time to bite with his powerful fangs, but they closed on air when Panimon delivered a swift kick to his jaw.

“You’re boring me,” Panimon told him. “Let’s find your friends and get a real fight started.”

MetalGarurumon’s response was to leap away and launch another attack. **“Garuru Tomahawk!”** The plate in his stomach opened and he flipped backwards, launching his most destructive missile. It was on target, but with the effortless speed he’d previously demonstrated Panimon dodged, caught the projectile and spun around, slinging it back at its source with doubled velocity.

A tremendous explosion followed. MetalGarurumon cried out and was lost to sight behind a cloud of fire and smoke. Panimon gave a short laugh and looked towards the burning building not far away. “Catch me if you can!” he shouted, and with another flap of his wings shot off in that direction. A second later the smoke of the Garuru Tomahawk parted and scattered as MetalGarurumon followed.

***

There was a sudden change. Taichi saw the building visibly shift. What had caused it he couldn’t say, but his heart lurched with the concrete. As the seconds passed it became clear that that first movement would not be the last, and soon anyone could see that the structure was not going to remain standing. Taichi knew he should flee from the disaster that was coming, and also knew that he couldn’t, and that it would be no use even if he could.

With a roar that shook streets and sky the building fell, fire and debris rolling outwards from its base. Taichi was blinded and deafened for a minute. He had a sense of flying through the hot air, he seemed to be still alive, and when his senses cleared he realized that WarGreymon had anticipated the final collapse and had caught him up at the last moment.

In the aftermath the pair rose to what Taichi might have found a dizzying height if his mind hadn’t been preoccupied with other concerns. They were over the worst of the damage, and away from the drift of the ever increasing black smoke.

“If you put me down somewhere,” Taichi said in an unsteady voice, “then—”

“Taichi,” his partner interrupted. “They weren’t there.”

“I know!” Taichi snapped back, with more certainty than he felt. “It’s just…” It was just that even if Hikari, Daisuke, Takeru and the rest were not dead somewhere in that holocaust, they were no less unreachable. His last chance of helping them was now gone.

“I’m sorry, Taichi,” WarGreymon said, apologizing for what was not his fault. “Maybe we should meet up with the others.”

Taichi blinked fiercely at tears that were not brought on by the burning of his eyes. “Yeah,” was all he could say.

It occurred to the pair to wonder if Koshiro and the rest had also come through the collapse safely. After a few tense moments they were relieved to spot AtlurKabuterimon, his carapace a more fiery red than usual in the glare of the flames, squatting in a wide street outside of the disaster zone. At almost the same moment Taichi’s D-Terminal beeped – Koshiro, asking if he and WarGreymon were alright.

Instead of sending a reply, Taichi told his partner to land nearby. As they descended they saw Koshiro himself, standing with Mimi, Lilimon, and a number of people who were too much in shock to leave the scene. There were sirens in the night; before long the area would be swarming with police, firefighters, and medical personnel.

Taichi didn’t bother to ask whether his friends had found any trace of Hikari and the other missing Chosen, able to see from their expressions that they had no good news to report. Koshiro and Mimi both looked distraught, and with good reason. That roof had not been entirely clear when the collapse began. Despite his paleness, though, Koshiro made an effort to remain informative.

“Sora-san and the rest are going to meet us near the edge of the park,” he said. His expression grew grimmer. “They’ve met a new enemy,” he said softly.

“Let’s go,” Taichi answered, secretly eager to channel his raging emotions into battle spirit.

With their partners hovering above them the three Chosen Children made their way as quickly as possible towards the park. Soon all six teens came within sight of each other. Taichi was surprised to see no sign of MetalGarurumon. He also noticed the condition of Sora and Jou’s partners, and knew then that whatever the new enemy was, it must be a powerful fighter.

The two groups approached each other rapidly, but had not yet collided when there was a flash of light in the night sky, and a sound like thunder. As everyone looked upwards they spotted an object streaking downwards, and before anyone could react it had hit the ground. The impact was brutal enough to send little shards of pavement in all directions, and Yamato called out when he saw that it was his partner that had been hurled to the ground.

Taichi reached MetalGarurumon first. Something like purple lightning danced briefly across the metallic body. Although stunned and obviously in pain, the Digimon did not appear to be terribly hurt, but Taichi’s examination was cut short by the sound of WarGreymon’s voice.

“Who are you?”

Looking up, Taichi saw what the others had already spotted. A figure was descending from the night sky, half illuminated by the glare of the city lights, and Taichi and those with him had their first sight of Panimon. As they stared his wings shrank, and he fell to the street some distance away with a crash that, like MetalGarurumon’s, shattered the concrete. The difference was that Panimon landed on his feet, and remained unharmed.

“I am your new god,” Panimon answered, looking in the direction of Taichi’s group. They flinched a little, hearing for the first time that subhuman voice that was even more grotesque than the speaker’s appearance, but Taichi recovered quickly, and stood up. “Six Chosen Children…” Panimon continued. His sneering head swiveled from one of them to another. “Boys and girls both. Well, I’m not picky.”

By this time Yamato’s group had warily made its way over to Taichi’s, and the Chosen Children stood together in a line, facing their enemy. Those partner Digimon that could still fight likewise arrayed themselves, ready to intercept Panimon at a moment’s notice if he should try to attack.

“Were you the one who assaulted Ugaki-san and the others?” Koshiro asked. Panimon laughed in his throat.

“I didn’t want to bother you right away,” he said. “I was hungry, you see. The people of your city have fed me.” He clenched and unclenched his shapeless fists, and his voice rose as he warmed to his subject. “I’ve grown stronger even than I was before. All their pain and fear was my food. Now I am ready to try you, Chosen Children. Let the torment begin.”

As he spoke he began to expand, not just in one body part but in all. Violet energy crackled around him as he continued to grow, lifting his goatish head to the dark sky. When the transformation was complete he stood head and shoulders above the hovering Chosen Digimon, and nearly straddled the wide Tokyo street.

“We have to destroy this thing,” Yamato said to Taichi in a low voice. “It’s too horrible.”

“You don’t need to tell me that,” Taichi replied. In a subconscious way, he was very glad that Panimon had appeared. It gave him some action to take and something to focus on besides the missing ones. Instead of brooding over thoughts of dead friends in the ruined building, he could avenge them and himself by wiping out this abomination. He raised his voice: “Alright, everyone! Attack!”

By now MetalGarurumon had recovered, and he joined WarGreymon, AtlurKabuterimon, and Lilimon in taking up battle positions. Panimon only stood where he was, and chuckled to himself.


	110. Panic

_“We know what happened to those who chanced to meet the Great God Pan, and those who are wise know that all symbols are symbols of something, not of nothing. It was, indeed, an exquisite symbol beneath which men long ago veiled their knowledge of the most awful, most secret forces which lie at the heart of all things; forces before which the souls of men must wither and die and blacken, as their bodies blacken under the electric current.” – Arthur Machen, “The Great God Pan”_

The attacks came in rapid succession.

**“Flower Cannon!”**   
**“Horn Buster!”**   
**“Cocytus Breath!”**

All three found their mark in a flash of light. Then WarGreymon came barreling in towards Panimon’s chest.

**“Brave Tornado!”**

Panimon met the living drill with both hands, and the Chosen Children hoped, and half expected, that the attack would bore straight through fingers, fur, and flesh. Panimon certainly rocked back on his heels – but then his hands thrust down with irresistible force. The next moment WarGreymon was on the ground, half buried in the pavement. The Brave Tornado had been stopped cold.

The Chosen Children gaped, too dumbfounded even to cry out. The Digimon, even MetalGarurumon, were scarcely less surprised. Panimon’s indulgent laugh chilled the whole group.

“I wasn’t joking about being a god,” he said.

“Th-That’s impossible,” Taichi stammered.

“How – how could it be that strong?” Mimi asked, her voice catching.

“I’m nothing like any Digimon you’ve ever fought,” Panimon told them. “The World of Darkness was my birthplace. All its power is naturally mine.” As he spoke, WarGreymon was struggling to rise. Panimon watched the movement with as little concern as one might watch the crawling of an insect. “Let’s make things interesting,” he said. He slowly raised one giant foot, which terminated in two hoof-like claws.

**“Great Abyss!”**

WarGreymon just barely managed to roll out of the way as the foot came down, smashing deep into the street’s surface. A network of cracks appeared, widening into deep crevasses and thrusting up large slabs of concrete. The Chosen Children struggled to keep their footing as the road heaved beneath them. Then something came pouring up out of the chasms. It was like a dark steam or mist, and as it jetted up from the depths of the earth some of it spread outward to blanket the ground, while the rest sprayed into the air in great arcs.

The Chosen Children were a little too surprised to run, and before long they were more than knee deep in the clammy substance. When they did try to move, it was almost like wading through water – though apparently a gas, the stuff was more than mere vapor. They had been looking down at the flow of the unknown medium, but their attention snapped back up to the Digimon as they heard their partners utter exclamations of surprise.

Panimon had remained standing where he was, flanked by geysers of the storm-gray mist, but a swift change had come over the columns. Each had shaped itself into a cloudy but distinct form. The result was two monstrous bulks, one suggesting a horned, bull-snouted giant, while from the other a trio of serpentine heads had sprouted. Closer to the ground the mist seemed about to coalesce into other forms.

For a moment the partner Digimon hesitated, unsure what to expect, and that one moment was all it took for the cloud-shapes to spring into fluid motion. Fast as wind, the misty monsters lunged at Panimon’s enemies. WarGreymon sliced off one of the three draconic heads, which exploded into shapeless mist, but the next instant one of the others twined about his entire body, and the third closed its gray jaws on an exposed part of his arm, sinking burning teeth into the flesh. The bull-headed figure lowered its horns and plunged at AtlurKabuterimon, the spikes of mist entering his carapace without effort.

Whatever the misty substance actually was, its consistency and properties seemed as variable as the shapes it took. The Chosen Children could wade through it, but its coils were substantial enough to pinion WarGreymon in midair. The teeth and horns of the cloud monsters sunk into the bodies of their prey leaving no mark, but they seared the nerves with intolerable electric cold. The jolt of their assault was enough to knock AtlurKabuterimon out of the air, and as he fell with a crash, his shell half sunken in ground mist, several shapeless spumes of it lanced down at his underside.

“AtlurKabuterimon!” Koshiro shouted.

Lilimon turned to her fallen comrade.

**“Temptation!”**

From her hands she flung clouds of pink pollen one after another at the tentacles of steam, each blast dispersing one of them into harmless vapor. Meantime MetalGarurumon set his sights on the minotaur.

**“Cocytus Breath!”**

The spray of frozen air ripped through the cloud beast from top to middle, freezing it into a million beads of vapor that fell like hail. Behind the target stood Panimon, who raised his arm as a shield, and the attack encased it with thick frost.

**“Flower Cannon!”**

The coating of ice exploded into shards as Lilimon’s attack hit it, but still Panimon seemed unfazed. “Such spirit!” Panimon leered at her. “You’ll be fun to tear apart.” He raised the hand that had withstood the combined attacks over his head. As if in answer a number of mounds in the fog shot into the air, taking vague avian shapes as they swarmed to attack Mimi’s partner. MetalGarurumon might have gone to her aid, but—

**“Night Gaunt!”**

Panimon’s hand swung downwards, the extended and boneless fingers slicing like so many whips across MetalGarurumon’s back as purple lightning surged through them. There was a crash like thunder, and again MetalGarurumon was struck to the ground. The mist took on new and threatening shapes as it flowed towards his prone body.

WarGreymon had been struggling to free himself from the jaws and coils of the fluid hydra, but its toughness was as extraordinary as it was unexpected. The pain continued unabated, but once the initial shock finally wore off an idea came to him. He could not move much, but his armor left him enough room to spin.

**“Brave Tornado!”**

His speed built up until the others saw him vanish in an orange blur that tore the heads and necks to shreds. The next moment it came to a stop, and WarGreymon charged through the air toward the towering figure of Panimon, a Dramon Killer at the ready. Panimon saw him coming. A gigantic fist met WarGreymon head-on with the speed of a bullet train. He flew backwards faster than he had flown forwards, and his body imprinted itself in the wall of a building.

Lilimon dodged left and right, back and forth, to avoid the gray beaks of the flying fog-shapes. There were four of the things, resembling birds or wyverns, and each as large as she was. She couldn’t find an opening for an attack – it was all she could do to avoid their strikes, and she knew that if one of the things found its mark the rest would immediately follow.

AtlurKabuterimon was attempting to rise again, hampered by the pull of the viscous mist. Some distance behind him the Chosen Children were still mired in the same substance, unwilling either to retreat or to move forward in the direction of the combatants. Those of them who could take their gaze off the fight watched the stirrings of the fog with apprehension. So far Panimon’s attack had left them unharmed, but it was impossible to stand in that swamp of gas and not feel the strangeness of the whole situation. At the moment the vaporous simulacra were focused on their Digimon partners. What if it decided to take an interest in them?

“It looks as though the battle is already coming to an end,” Panimon said, looking in their direction. “Is this all there is to the legendary power of the Chosen Children?” He made a fist that crackled with purple energy, and smashed it into AtlurKabuterimon’s face as he tried to sit up. There was a burst of light and a sound like an explosion.

“AtlurKabuterimon!”

Koshiro’s partner had vanished as if that one punch had obliterated him. But as the horrified teen watched, Panimon scooped something up out of the mist and held it up, a little blob of pale pink between two fingers. Squeezed between the digits, it let out a little cry.

“Motimon!”

Koshiro pressed forward several steps in spite of the danger and hampering fog, then stopped as Panimon spoke again.

“Don’t worry, I won’t kill him yet.” With a flick of his wrist he tossed the little Digimon in Koshiro’s direction. Motimon hit first the mist and then the ground without bouncing, and Koshiro bent to feel about for him. “He can watch,” Panimon finished, licking his lips. He began to wade towards the Chosen Children.

Some distance away from both Panimon and the Chosen Children, still embedded in a building’s wall, WarGreymon saw what was happening. He had been dazed for a while due to the two impacts, but now his head was clearing. “Wait,” he said, unheard by anyone. He pushed himself away from the building. The next moment he was flying in Panimon’s direction, gathering not only speed, but an ever expanding aura of orange energy.

As he reached the outer fringe of the deadly fog it reared up like a great animal, only to melt away before the heat of the orange light, so that there was nothing to impede him as he closed the distance between himself and Panimon. The impact’s force lifted Panimon bodily off the ground, and a few moments later he had crashed into the outlying trees of Shiba Park.

WarGreymon rose into the sky. A wide swath of the fog had been burnt away, and MetalGarurumon was visible again. No longer overpowered by the fog shapes, he shattered the phantom beast before him with his icy breath. Meanwhile, Lilimon still hadn’t broken away from her flying pursuers, but putting on a sudden burst of speed she shot out of their midst, trailing the pink pollen of Temptation behind her. The wyvern-like shapes were blotted out, and then there were only clouds of pink mist falling slowly towards the ground as they evaporated.

“Nice, Lilimon!” Mimi called.

Taichi’s eyes were on WarGreymon, and he nodded with satisfaction as his partner raised his hands and began gathering power between them. A full-scale attack might cause great damage to the park, but it was worth it to destroy that monster. The sphere of shining energy grew slowly, drawing strength from the earth and atmosphere, feeding even on the abyssal mist, which began to fade away. Sora’s father would have observed that this, truly, was the power of Gaia. Soon the Chosen Children’s legs were free of the clutching fog.

**“Gaia Force!”** WarGreymon roared, hurling the orb of searing heat at his enemy.

MetalGarurumon was prepared as well. **“Cocytus Breath!”** A torrent of ice poured from his mouth.

Panimon had finished getting to his feet, and raised his arms in defiance as the two attacks converged upon him.

There came an explosion that shook the earth. The Chosen Children covered their faces from the glare of the blast, and only just managed to keep their footing on the ruined street. For an instant the world was blotted out by clouds of flying debris, all crushed to a fine powder by the force of the combined attacks. After many long seconds the air began to clear.

WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon remained where they were – and so did Panimon. The three of them were motionless; only Lilimon moved as she rejoined her companions. Panimon stood with his arms now hanging at his side and his head bowed. A few seconds passed before he broke the silence.

“Very good, Chosen Ones. You haven’t disappointed expectations after all.”

They all stared at him a while longer.

“Now what?” Yamato muttered. He was about to call MetalGarurumon to attack once more when the group was surprised by Panimon’s low laughter.

“What’s so funny?” Taichi growled as the monstrous sound went on. “WarGreymon!”

As he called out the word, Panimon went into motion. Without any preparation, and before any of the other Digimon could react, he jumped forward, back into the street, one foot coming down on MetalGarurumon. There was a yell as Yamato’s partner was crushed under the titanic weight, and the pavement buckled anew. WarGreymon immediately descended to help, but found himself immobile when Panimon’s hand shot out and clutched him.

**“Flower Cannon!”**

Lilimon’s energy bullet hit the furry wrist of the hand that had arrested WarGreymon, scattering into petals. No effect. Panimon threw back his head and laughed long and loud. When the hellish braying stopped he looked at Lilimon. His other hand flew at her, but she dodged backward and readied her weapon again.

**“Flow—”**

The attack was cut short. One of Panimon’s fingers had rapidly lengthened, and was now wrapped about her. He turned his head towards where the Chosen Children stood gaping.

“Looks like I win,” he grinned.


	111. Solidarity

_“He feared the fall of night over that accursed place, but it was some comfort to have so many people with him.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Colour Out of Space”_

Panimon resituated himself, turning his body to face the Chosen Children while keeping a tight hold on WarGreymon and pressure on MetalGarurumon.

“Now, Chosen Children,” Panimon said, “Any opinion on which of your Digimon I should crush first?”

They could only stare. What retort could they make when they had no Digimon in reserve? Pyocomon, Pukamon, and Motimon could not evolve again so soon. They would have a chance only if one of Panimon’s captives managed to break free.

“No answer?” Panimon said. “Take your time. I’m in no hurry.”

WarGreymon strained against Panimon’s hand with all the strength of his muscular body. Inch by inch he managed to force the huge fingers apart, but Panimon continued to speak without any sign of paying attention.

“How about this orange one, who sucked up my fog?” Panimon asked, stretching his hand in the Chosen Children’s direction to indicate WarGreymon. The hand flashed violet, and the resulting peal of thunder failed to drown out WarGreymon’s scream.

“Stop!” Taichi yelled, but Panimon only smirked.

“I _would_ like to finish him off before the flower girl,” he continued. “I’ll need a free hand if I want to pull all her little wings off.”

Lilimon was trying to struggle as WarGreymon had done, but the finger wrapped about her remained more immobile than steel. Mimi’s eyes were fixed on her partner with a look of horror. She seemed unable to speak.

“And what about the other one?” Panimon asked. He raised his foot – only a little, but enough that MetalGarurumon could almost stand upright despite the beating he had taken.

“MetalGarurumon!” Yamato cried as his partner came back into sight.

“Y…Yamato… Ah!”

Panimon’s full weight had come down again, and MetalGarurumon’s hoarse yell of pain was immediately cut off. Panimon laughed again. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his new game. “How about it, Chosen Children?” he asked. “Have you ever felt so useless? How foolish you look! Standing there staring, incapable of any action that could possibly save you. Even at their utmost limits your Digimon cannot so much as mark me. Go on! Tell me which one deserves the quickest end to their misery. If you don’t answer soon it will be too late for the wolf… but I guess it doesn’t matter.”

“Is there really nothing we can do?” Sora asked angrily, speaking to no one in particular.

“Even if I could evolve again,” Motimon said, “I’d be no match for him.”

“There’s got to be something,” said Taichi. “I won’t give up! If WarGreymon could just get free…”

“If we could fight too…!” Yamato said. “I’ve got to do something! Otherwise, MetalGarurumon…” His words were choked off at the thought.

Sora looked at him, her eyes moist with a combination of compassion and intolerable outrage against their enemy. She wanted to help – just like all of them wanted to help, and just like all of them she saw no way to do so. Pyocomon sat in her arms, and though Sora couldn’t see it her partner’s eyes were fixed on the group of Digimon, and there was a hard look in them. Sora was at least conscious of her little partner’s presence. If Pyocomon evolved again… but in spite of the situation it seemed selfish to ask. She felt as never before the frustration of being unable to share with her Digimon the burden of the fight.

“Sora,” she heard. A little surprised to hear her speak, she looked down at Pyocomon. “I think I can evolve again.”

“But, to evolve so far, so soon...”

“Please let me try it,” Pyocomon answered. “Even if I get beaten again, it’s worth it so save my friends.”

“I’d like to try too,” Pukamon said from Jou’s arms.

“Are you sure?” his partner asked, giving him an appraising look.

“Of course I’m sure,” said Pukamon, with something of his eternal smile in his voice. “Just be ready to patch me up after it’s over.”

“Looks like you’re having a good discussion over there,” said Panimon’s loud and terrible voice. “Have you come to a decision yet?”

Yamato bared his teeth, but could say nothing for fear his partner might pay for it. Beside him he heard Pyocomon’s small voice.

“You do understand… Right, Sora?” There was a moment’s silence.

“Yes.”

With that word the two Baby Digimon leapt from their resting places. The whole scene felt strangely familiar. It reminded the Chosen Children of that first fight with Kuwagamon, but drained of all its warmth and color, with their partners leaving their arms to rush headlong into what seemed to be certain defeat. Back then, just as they had evolved the day had darkened, and now instead the night grew brighter with the light of the Digivices, and the answering light of their bodies.

The two radiant shapes grew and grew, and all the time were moving ahead.

**“…Garudamon!”**   
**“…Zudomon!”**

“Wrong answer,” said Panimon. Purple lightning surged through his right arm and into WarGreymon’s body, while his left hand – the hand that had Lilimon – rose to bludgeon the oncoming Garudamon.

**“Hammer Boomerang!”**

Thor’s Hammer left Zudomon’s grip at high speed, striking Panimon’s right hand a moment after. For an instant the hold on WarGreymon relaxed, and in spite of the lingering pain of that last shock he was able to take advantage of the opportunity. At the same time Panimon, slightly off balance, lashed out at Garudamon. Her own claws met his attack, catching at his hand as the impact rocked him back on his heels. Next Zudomon’s bulk came barreling in, and the three giant Digimon went down all together in a confused heap.

The collapse threw up new dust and debris, making it hard for the Chosen Children to see what was happening, but they could hear a cry of, **“Hammer Spark!”** and an impact. For the most part the mass of Digimon appeared oddly still – and yet there was a palpable tension about it. Some titanic struggle was taking place.

Suddenly several things happened in rapid succession. A small shape darted up into the air, free of the chaos, and the observers recognized Lilimon. The next instant Garudamon gave what seemed to be a cry of pain. Her entire body rose into the air – Panimon’s hand was around her wrist, and with it he slammed her head-first into the ground. Finally there was an explosion of purple energy, and Zudomon’s massive form was launched into the air, coming down again with a tremendous crash.

Cloven feet kicked the air, and in a moment Panimon stood on his feet once more. “ _Fools!_ ” His black fur bristled and crackled with power. He appeared to swell, and a darkness that was not the darkness of night seemed to lower over the wreck of the Tokyo street. Panimon’s mouth opened wide, and a heart-stopping shriek deafened even the Chosen Children, and filled them with overmastering terror. The very air seemed to shudder visibly. Fragments of the pavement rose into the air as if gravity itself had been obliterated.

The scream ended in a great concussion, felt instead of heard. The force of it blasted the Chosen Children off their feet, and several of their partners, reduced to Baby II form, were hurled in their direction, bouncing like skipped stones.

Silence fell. Long seconds passed.

Finally, bruised with the battering they had taken, the Chosen Children crawled to unsteady feet or sitting positions. The street was in ruins. Trees in the park had been flattened, and not a single pane of glass remained intact in the faces of the adjacent buildings. Wherever they could be seen, the partner Digimon lay motionless. All were in their Baby forms with the exception of Taichi and Yamato’s partners, and stumbling to their sides the boys found that though the two Digimon had kept their shape their armor had been broken in many places. The others scooped up the little bodies of their partners from where they had fallen.

“You’re finished,” Panimon said. The earth trembled as his slow steps brought him nearer to his enemies. “This city is mine, and everyone in it.” He paused and looked down at WarGreymon and MetalGarurumon. They made an effort to rise again, but their limbs could not support them. Panimon grinned and stooped forward.

Taichi and Yamato tensed, but did not retreat. Maybe, Sora thought, they could no longer stand apart from their Digimon. In spite of their helplessness, they were willing to fight tooth and nail against this colossal enemy, rather than remain idle and watch their best friends be destroyed. They would do now in their own feeble way what Sora had so passionately wished to do earlier. Naturally she was terrified for them. They were her friends. Yamato was more than a friend, and, to an extent, so was Taichi. Panimon would not kill them now, but that was little comfort. His hands were descending. They lowered their heads, braced as if for impact.

Sora could not remain where she was. They stood with their partners, and she would stand with them. Panimon paused when she stepped forward.

“I’ll get to you soon,” he said. “There’s no rush.”

She ignored him. “We won’t give up, will we?” she asked. There was a steadiness and firmness in her voice that amazed even herself.

“Sora?” Yamato said, looking up at her in surprise but not leaving MetalGarurumon’s side. Taichi also looked at her, long and hard.

“That’s right,” he said. “…We _can’t_ give up. We aren’t just fighting for us— Ah!” His eyes went wide as a thought struck him. By this time Koshiro, Mimi, and Jou had drawn near to the group before the incredulous Panimon, their partners in their arms.

“Even if it seems like there’s nothing we can do…” Jou said.

“No, there is!” Taichi interrupted him. “At least…”

Now the idea that had come to Taichi appeared in Yamato’s head as well. Perhaps it resulted from a sense of déjà vu – the subconscious memory of a scene on another night when all seemed lost, and Sora had appeared before them. “Everybody’s hope…” he murmured.

“Now this is pathetic,” Panimon sneered. “Hope is dead in this city. I have killed it. By this point, Chosen Children, can you really pretend that there is any hope left to you?”

“We don’t have to pretend!” Taichi said.

“Even when things look hopeless,” said Yamato, “that’s when we have the most to hope for.”

“We’re all here, together,” Koshiro said. The light that had dawned on Taichi and Yamato had now spread to the rest of the Chosen, and they looked even confident as they stood as a group, six humans and six Digimon.

“Oh, enough of this,” Panimon said. His hands closed in once more.

“I feel it, Taichi,” WarGreymon said.

“Yes, thanks to everyone…” MetalGarurumon joined in. From the bodies of the fallen Ultimates a light had begun to shine. With his fists Panimon would have crushed both their heads, but instead he struck nothing but pavement. The heads had moved; they were larger now, and a shape of radiance had formed between them.

“What is this, now?” Panimon said, sounding more curious than annoyed, though he did take a step back from the blazing light.

The Chosen Children didn’t answer. They only watched in relief as that light solidified into Omegamon, summoned into being by their common purpose. As in crises past, his white figure symbolized the hope of many. Sora in particular felt a sense almost of release. She had spent the past few days worrying about the vulnerabilities of people who dared to care for each other, but here seemed to be proof that the weaknesses of friendship and love were counterbalanced – and perhaps outweighed – by the strength they provided. She felt the presence of Taichi and Yamato beside her, the rest of her friends behind her, and she could have cried for joy.

“Another evolution…” Panimon muttered, looking at Omegamon, whose height was about the same as his. He smiled. “This will be the kind of fight that legends are born of.”

His opponent spoke no word in response, but only swung his left arm out in a wide arc, unsheathing his blade with a burst of smoke.


	112. Beginning of the End

_“’And if a god may fear, it seemed that there was fear upon the face of Dorozhand, and he seized me by the hand and led me back along the paths of Time that I might not see THE END.’” – Lord Dunsany, “Of How Imbaun Became High Prophet in Aradec of All the Gods save One”_

Panimon didn’t wait for the Grey Sword to be put to use. One of his lightning fast punches shot at Omegamon’s face, but his opponent’s right arm was just barely fast enough to block in time. The sound of strange flesh hitting metal echoed down the devastated street – Panimon’s attack had been stopped.

“Interesting…”

The fist pulled back and re-launched itself, brimming with dark lightning. Again Omegamon stopped it, though not without losing some ground. The next moment he was on the offensive, his right arm a battering ram that forced his enemy back, away from the Chosen Children. As Panimon leapt clear the left arm went into motion, and the point of the Grey Sword scraped across his broad chest, scoring a deep groove in the organic breastplate and drawing a rumbling growl of pain. At long last the evil creature had been truly hurt.

“Omegamon! Be careful with Garuru Cannon! We don’t want to do more damage,” Yamato shouted, smiling fiercely in spite of his warning.

**“Night Gaunt!”** Panimon roared, the glowing fingers of one hand lashing out at full extension. Omegamon deftly blocked with the Grey Sword, and the whip-like digits tangled themselves around the weapon, causing violet electricity to run along its length. Then Panimon’s other hand swept out, and its fingers twined about Omegamon’s midsection. The next instant Omegamon’s body was limned in sparks of purple.

Silent until now, his voice was heard in a cry of pain. Even at that moment, however, his left arm was straining against his enemy’s grip, and with a last powerful yank the Grey Sword was free, and the severed ends of Panimon’s fingers fell to the ground, where they melted into oily black vapor and vanished. There was a hoarse roar of outrage, and Panimon let go of Omegamon’s body as the fingers of his left hand retracted. But immediately that hand struck out again as a huge fist. It smashed into Omegamon’s face with a flash of blinding purple, and the knight Digimon staggered backward.

While he had dominated the flow of battle, Panimon had continually taunted his opponents in his animalistic voice. Now, wounded, he turned deadly serious. Casting aside his meagre traces of anthropomorphism he came at his enemy with the single-minded ferociousness of a true beast. With a growl and a flap of his wings he leapt high in the air and pounced upon Omegamon.

One of Panimon’s feet crashed against the shield on Omegamon’s left shoulder, forcing him down to one knee. Feet back on the ground, Panimon’s hammer hands went to work, raining Vulcan-like blows on his stunned opponent, scattering lightning in all directions. But Omegamon managed to raise his right arm, and by some miracle the jaws of MetalGarurumon’s head closed on Panimon’s furry wrist, arresting it.

Panimon might soon have torn free, but Omegamon’s other arm, into which the Grey Sword had retracted, swung up and delivered an uppercut to his bearded chin. There was a noise, harsh and metallic – and the Grey Sword had pierced through Panimon’s snout.

For several seconds everything was still and silent. Panimon coughed. Thick black blood oozed out the side of his mouth. There was no movement of the jowls, but those present again heard the goat thing’s hideous voice.

“This… is nothing. I… am… a god.”

Omegamon kicked off the ground, his cape trailing behind him, lifting his enemy into the air. Above the tops of the nearby buildings they flew. Panimon wrenched his left arm free, and both of his misshapen hands closed in to grapple with his opponent. But before he could come to grips with Omegamon, the MetalGarurumon head had opened wide, and the Garuru Cannon spoke.

Panimon was blown heavenward, hit with blast after blast. He vanished in a cloud of smoke… But then it cleared, and he was plunging down towards Omegamon. Heavily damaged, wings tattered, he still roared in defiance, his glowing paws still sought their target.

“You,” Omegamon said as red light suffused the Grey Sword, “Are no god. **Omega Blast!** ”

The Grey Sword sliced through the air, and Panimon was swallowed up in a titanic explosion. In its wake there was no trace of him.

Omegamon sank slowly to street level. As his feet touched down his body disappeared in light, and soon Agumon and Gabumon lay where he had been, panting with exhaustion.

***

The IceDevimon who had notified Demon of the Deep One’s anomalous visit to Leng had decided to oversee the investigation itself. At the moment it stood hidden from casual view in one of the craggy valleys that characterized the region. From somewhere above it came the flapping of wings, and in another moment a Devidramon had landed, one of several that the IceDevimon had dispatched to gather information.

“What do you have to report?” the IceDevimon asked.

“We caught one of the Parasimon that lives here,” the Devidramon growled. “It said that some of them were sent to the monastery to torture prisoners there.”

“Get to the point.”

“The prisoners are humans. We thought you should know.”

There were a few seconds of silence. Slowly the trace of a smile came into the IceDevimon’s expression.

“Interesting. Who are the Parasimon working for?”

“It wouldn’t say,” the Devidramon answered. “Just talked about ‘the Dark One.’”

“I suppose I should report this to Demon-sama,” the IceDevimon said. “These humans may be… of interest to him.” He paused. “Is there any chance the Parasimon will mention your conversation to anyone?”

Now it was the Devidramon’s turn to smile, showing its many sharp teeth. “None,” it said.

“Then find our other scouts and tell them to return to the castle,” IceDevimon said. “I will go on ahead.” Stepping out of the shadows it spread its wings and shot into the sky, the only spot of white against the black landscape. It wheeled and headed back in the direction it had come, while the Devidramon, much better camouflaged, also took to the air and traveled in the opposite direction, flying low to the ground.

***

Hiraga felt in need of a smoke. He might take one before long, though it seemed a little distasteful to do so while the streets were so full of dust and debris. The evening had probably already done as much damage to his lungs as a pack of cigarettes could. And besides, such a casual action might look suspicious to the various authorities and emergency personnel who now crowded the neighborhood.

Their presence was partly his fault, of course. After conferring with the members of Sato’s organization he had helped the group arrive at the decision to transfer the base’s data, leave the building unnoticed, and detonate the entire basement rather than wait for the enemy Digimon to arrive. There were obvious drawbacks to this, but it was agreed that there was little else that could have been done, and the building had already been compromised. The bodies in the subbasement must also have been incinerated in the blast.

A risk had been run that the Chosen Children might be caught in the explosion, but in the aftermath it became evident that they had survived. Hiraga had realized soon enough what the impediment was that the Dark Man had hinted at. Everything was quiet enough now – as quiet as could be expected after such a large-scale disaster – and the battle evidently over, though he had no idea yet what that final explosion in the air meant. At the moment he didn’t particularly care.

His concern right now was self-preservation. He didn’t know where the other fugitives had gotten to by now, but if his services were required in future he could take orders in his sleep. It had taken a while, but he had realized that his conversation with the Dark Man suggested that his vision of the previous night really had connected him to his employer.

Extricating himself from the disaster zone was the first order of business, preferably without being stopped. Getting questioned wouldn’t be a problem, but he would run the risk of his illegal firearm being discovered. What were the chances, he wondered, of happening across the cat-like Digimon he’d been tasked with finding before tonight’s mess started? He also wondered whether it had survived the catastrophe and ensuing battle, and whether he would have to go hunting for it again. Tedious as the task was, at least it would give him something to do.

After many tense minutes Hiraga figured that he was out of danger area and could relax a bit. _Relax!_ he thought. _That’s a joke._ He hadn’t felt truly relaxed for quite a while now. His profession and lifestyle had never particularly lent themselves to relaxation, but he’d borne with the normal stresses – present in any career – well enough until this latest job began. It was the strangeness that told on him, probably. He didn’t understand the world he’d wandered into.

Something else that he didn’t understand was why he still remained in Sato’s employ, paid good money for little work, work that he didn’t even seem to execute to his employer’s satisfaction. The question had bothered him off and on for a long while, and it came back to him tonight when everything seemed to be going to hell. Maybe he should quit… But would they let him? Hiraga had worked for some frightening people in the past, but they were only human beings like he was, who had to play by the same basic rules. But the members of this organization could read minds and command demons. For the first time in his life Hiraga felt afraid to back out of a job. He was trapped. How could he blend into the shadows when the shadows were alive and seeking him?

As he made his way back to his apartment, he tried to put his worries out of his mind. For now he could only wait and keep alert. If there was a change in the situation he must be sure to notice and capitalize on it. His wits had kept him out of trouble this long. He would rely on the possibility that they might do so yet again.

***

Takenouchi Haruhiko had been standing for a while on Odaiba’s beach, gazing across the dark bay to mainland Tokyo. He wasn’t sure when or how Sora and the others would return – that they might come flying back seemed unlikely – but he had been restless at home and was glad to stretch his legs while he waited with the apprehension that the Chosen Children’s parents never seemed to entirely grow out of. His own apprehension ran high at the moment. There had seemed to be a lot of commotion across the water, but Odaiba was too far away from the action for him to make out any details. By now things seemed to have calmed down somewhat, but he couldn’t feel at ease until he knew that his daughter and her friends were safe.

His wonderings were interrupted by a sudden low rumbling and sensation of movement. After a moment’s confusion he realized that it was an earthquake he was feeling. The sand moved under his feet, and the waves in the bay seemed to swell. The disturbance intensified as the quake continued, stretching itself out into one of the longest he’d felt in a while, and one of the strangest. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but the sound and feel of the tremors seemed subtly different from what he was used to.

He failed to determine why that was before the quake subsided. He’d heard from his wife that another earthquake had struck the area only a night or two before, and wondered if there was any connection. Maybe he could ask a fellow professor about it, one whose specialty lay closer to seismology.

His gaze had wandered idly back to the lights of the mainland when he heard his daughter’s voice behind him, raised in surprised greeting.


	113. Sato

_“His was a religious soul that had failed to find good in the scheme of things; and lacking it, was impelled to make of evil itself an object of secret reverence.” – Clark Ashton Smith, “The Devotee of Evil”_

Hikari couldn’t remember much of what had happened since Sato Katsu had left her. The black tides must have receded, not yet swallowing her completely. Perhaps they would return again and again, one of the weapons used to heighten her misery. She told herself she must try to resist… but what hope was there? Her strength would give out – the strength poor Tailmon had always insisted she had – and she could not turn to her friends to renew and bolster it. Instead her fear for them sapped what strength she had. She would try to fight back, she promised herself. She would try. But all the while a pitiful voice in the back of her mind whispered, _It’s over._

Though no longer handcuffed to the pillar, she didn’t move around much. There was no activity or position that eased the ache of her muscles, which had been hurting since she woke up and felt still worse after the roughness of her encounter with Sato.

Sato! She shuddered at every thought of him. What had she done to make him hate her so much? And yet his malignance was somehow less disturbing than his apparent obsession with her, and the deadness of spirit that made him seem inhuman in a way neither she nor her friends had encountered before. A man like that was capable of anything – as she had already seen – and now his monstrous ingenuity had turned towards her and, worse, to the others.

Alone in the cell’s darkness there was no escape either physically or mentally. If she turned her thoughts away from the terrifying riddle of Sato Katsu, she could only turn to other worries and horrors. Tailmon and the other partner Digimon killed by the Being that took the form of AncientSphinxmon. That Being himself, whose mystery was as deep and black as Sato’s. Her family in the human world. They had to be sick with worry, and who knew what dangers her brother and the other free Chosen Children were facing. The thing or things that had attacked Iori’s girlfriend could threaten any one of the group’s friends or relatives.

There did eventually come a brief respite. Utterly exhausted with worry, Hikari drifted into a lethargic daze, motionless on the floor, and though still miserable she was spared for a while the sharp pangs caused by thinking. Body, mind, and soul were given up to a dull ache.

At some point she must have fallen asleep in spite of her situation, because she realized that she was dreaming. She dreamt that she was out of the lightless cell, though this did nothing to relieve her – she stood upon the shore of the Dark Ocean, Dagomon’s Ocean, on a seemingly limitless beach broken up by hulking lumps of rock that stood out of the haze.

As always she heard the rolling of the waves, but she could see as well that the ocean’s surface was troubled. Breakers crashed on the sand to one side of her, and before long she saw that the sky, too, was not quiescent. At irregular intervals a change came over it. Sometimes it darkened for a moment, becoming the color of coal and dimming the ghostly landscape, while other times there would be a flash of… not light, but the sky’s gray paled almost to whiteness. These brightenings died out in an instant, but they seemed to come a little more frequently than the darkenings. Suggestions of sounds accompanied both, vast and far off.

As the dream went on both phenomena became less common. The violence of the waves subsided. The World of Darkness returned to its common state of deceptive stillness, its silence broken only by the murmur of the sluggish tide. Hikari hadn’t yet moved much except to look around her. Doubtless something terrifying would happen soon, but she waited for it almost with apathy. After all, what new nightmare could be worse than reality?

***

Apart from its Spartan furnishings, the chamber that served as Sato Katsu’s private room differed little from the Chosen Children’s cells. Stark and impersonal, the room was undecorated and, except for the dead grayness of its atmosphere, unlit. All it contained were a desk, an untouched cot, and Sato Katsu himself. He had come to it directly after his brief interview with the messenger from the Dark Ocean rather than turn his attention back to his prisoners.

By this point in his life Sato’s mental states had little in common with those of a normal human being. He could barely recall the sensation of happiness, but didn’t feel the loss keenly, and for the most part sadness also was alien to him now. He was a man consumed by his work. Any fervent flare of emotion could usually be traced back to the progress of his campaign to bring about the ultimate triumph of Darkness. For the most part, he felt nothing.

But there were occasional dim stirrings of emotion in the background of his mind, more inferred than truly felt. Tonight he seemed to himself uneasy. Obviously enough, the cause must be that part of the Deep One’s message that had essentially questioned his devotion to the Master who had sent it. Dagomon. The High Priest of Darkness, the Elder God…

Sato asked himself whether his god’s rebuke was deserved. It was true that he had not been sleeping lately except to shape and invade the dreams of the Chosen Children, and that he had spent many a night pacing through dark halls when his mind could have been open to direct communication with his deity. But it had not been his intention to keep himself cut off. Not his conscious intention, at least. But an unconscious one…?

Sato frowned. The possibility was disturbing. Dagomon had shown him his purpose in life, the common destiny of all lives, and the god did not forgive laxity. One of Sato’s hands curled into a fist and flung itself against the rough stone of the nearby wall. _My zeal will not falter now,_ he commanded himself. _Not when the awaited time is finally here._

He withdrew his hand from the wall. The impact had reopened one of the cuts in his wrist, made by his knife during bargains with various evil entities, and with blank disinterest he watched a drop of blood make its way down his arm.

He walked over to the desk, where the children’s Digivices and D-Terminals lay. It would not be long at all now before his goal was achieved. It had been many long years in coming, but the powers of darkness had done their work continually and, despite the numerous setbacks, done it well. At this very moment the six captured Chosen Children were in the process of providing the last measure of negative energy needed. Sato knew it would be useless for him to try and sleep tonight. There would be plenty of time to commune with his god once the suspense was over.

Perhaps for now he should be checking on the progress of the Chosen Children and their torturers. As far as personal participation went, he had yet to interview Ichijouji or Inoue. Motomiya he would leave alone for now – the Dark Man had something in progress with that one – but at the moment he didn’t feel inclined to bother with the other two children either. This was perhaps surprising, given how long he had awaited a time when the Chosen Children would be in his power, but tonight his mood was an uncommon one – a mood for reflection. It might have been brought on by his recent return to the World of Darkness. Several years had passed since his last sojourn there.

Reminiscence did not come naturally to Sato. Large swaths of his memory lay in dimness, not forgotten, but not differentiated into distinct images. Each segment of his strange life had its own overarching theme, and broad impressions of their dominant emotions came to him more easily than events and incidents. Several did manage to rise above the waste, however, like low dark islands lashed by stormy seas.

He remembered meeting his mother for the last time. They had just happened to pass by each other on the street, and for a moment their eyes met. He saw the confusion that came over her expression, could almost feel her pulse quicken with something like hope and something like fear. A long moment had passed, and then she dropped her eyes. Even allowing for the time that had passed, this young man was too old to be her boy. They walked past each other, and Sato had the sensation that she had turned and stared after him. He did not look back.

That had been his last fleeting contact with his old life. It had been a chance accident, and he couldn’t say what it meant to him, or whether it meant anything. What came before it held more significance, because that was a step he had deliberately taken, one of the most important tasks of his early discipleship. Over the course of a few nights’ work he had set out down the path he still walked today, and he did not regret it, though there was a memory, clearer than the others, which he wished he didn’t have – a low, shocked voice asking, “Katsu?”

But what did it matter? There was no other way that things could have happened. Time spent resisting the Darkness was time wasted. He’d learned that well enough, and even that early on his destiny was irrevocable. Soon, events would prove to both him and his enemies that his course had been the logical one, in spite of every random chance that had saved the Chosen Children in the past.

He wondered if they really did have any hope left. Maybe even now they expected another divine intervention to save them. Sato, of course, knew better. He knew that in the end the inevitable would happen, and the powers of light would run out of miracles. They always did.

***

When the time came Hikari was startled, not because the thing was frightening but because it was so different from the sort of development she had been expecting. She heard a voice, either distant, or nearby and muffled by the fog. Not at all menacing, it was the voice of a boy, and though she couldn’t tell what he said he seemed to be distressed. Curious in spite of her surroundings, and eager to offer what little assistance she could, Hikari tried to decide what direction the sound had come from.

The speaker seemed to be somewhere among the rocks, so she began her search there. For the moment she had forgotten she was dreaming, but it came back to her suddenly when she happened to wonder if the unrecognized voice might have belonged to one of her friends. But of course not. Her friends were imprisoned in Sato’s lair, just as she herself was. Even so, she continued looking. The sight of a human being, even as a figment of dream, would be more than welcome.

The fog seemed thicker among the rocks. While not exactly a maze, the area was easy to get turned around in, and for a while Hikari saw no sign of the person, though she could hear his voice, still muffled and indistinct but intermittently understandable.

“Ginjiro-san?” he called. “Maeko-chan?”

“Hello?” Hikari said, matching the volume of the voice but going no louder.

“Where am I…?” she heard him wonder, talking to himself as though he had failed to hear her. “I need to get back. Everyone is…”

“Excuse me,” Hikari tried again. “Who are you?”

No answer. A creeping sensation came over her in the renewed silence. Her steps slowed, became more cautious, but she kept walking. Around the next rock… and there he was. Following his voice she had come back towards the sea, and he stood within a large semicircle of rock with empty sand stretching to the sea beyond him. He was surveying his settings with a kind of franticness, and just as Hikari stepped out from among the rocks he glanced in her direction.

He was a boy about her age, with dark hair and expressive eyes, wearing unremarkable clothing and a dismayed expression. She’d never seen him before, and couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing in this dark world. She was about to speak to him when he turned his gaze elsewhere. He took a few steps, stopped in indecision. It looked as if he hadn’t even seen her.

“At this rate,” he murmured to himself, “the battle may…” He glanced quickly in several directions. “Hello!?”

Hikari stood frozen where she was, trying to understand. She noticed now that besides being muffled his voice held a quality hers lacked. It reminded her of when she, Miyako, and Ken had been lost in the distorted forest, able to see and hear the others without being seen or heard. If this was a similar case, how could she reach this boy? Though she did not know him, something about him seemed to call out to her. She felt a desperate desire to help him. Somehow. Anyhow.

Just as the thought crossed her mind, a sudden change came over the atmosphere. Though she wouldn’t have been able to describe it, she knew that she felt it, the way the human ear might detect a high-pitched sound without hearing it. The boy seemed to feel it too, for they simultaneously turned their eyes and their attention out to the misty reaches of the gray sea. Something stirred out there – an invisible motion that sent its ripples through Hikari’s mind.

The strength threatened to go out of her knees. She didn’t know what was going to happen, but she knew that the nightmare had begun in earnest, and she knew she would have given anything not to face it. She could hear the boy breathing heavily. He may not have any idea what his surroundings meant, but his instincts must have realized something terrifying was coming.

Then they could see it. In that universe of gray a blackness appeared, rising slowly out of the waves. From the start she saw its enormity, and could only stand and stare in horror, but when the red eyes appeared, shining like windows into hell, she let out a shrieking gasp and collapsed. Yet the eyes held hers – on her knees, with her hands clutching the sand, her gaze followed them as they rose higher and higher, until a mountain of living darkness towered above the ocean’s surface.

In her peripheral vision Hikari could see the boy stagger a little. Like her, he must have felt something at that moment reaching for his soul. She had felt the thing’s presence before, during her second Dark World experience, and the idea came to her that this time she was spared the worst of its influence only because its attention focused on the boy.

This Presence felt more _alive_ , somehow, more real than the shades she had met in previous dreams. Was she _not_ dreaming now? Waking or sleeping she was trapped in the World of Darkness, and what was that world but nightmare itself?

With a yell the boy fell suddenly to his knees. His hands flew to his head, clutching and grabbing at it as if he would pull out the thing that invaded it. His gasps and moans told of the losing struggle. As the gut-wrenching scene went on Hikari tried to crawl towards him, to reach and comfort him, and combine their feeble human strengths. But she felt the mind of the evil on the horizon turn fully towards hers, and then she could do nothing but lie in the sand and writhe as the horror of that contact swept over her.

The mists were thickening. The darkness deepened – she felt rather than saw that her companion too was downed, and helpless. She closed her eyes, and they screamed together.


	114. A Form of Worship

_“Some day he would call, when the stars were ready, and the secret cult would always be waiting to liberate him.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Call of Cthulhu”_

They all sat together on the deserted boardwalk with feet in the sand, looking out across the beach to the water of the bay and Minato beyond, where invisible smoke must still be rising from the glittering skyline. Above and below the band of light spread the mirrored darkness of sky and sea. Since the earthquake had ended, the night was quiet.

The Chosen Children were glad to rest a while, both physically and, to what extent they could, mentally. Professor Takenouchi enjoyed the measure of relief that his daughter’s safe return and the destruction of the nocturnal predator had brought him. He was hardly free of anxiety yet. He had known without being told that the children’s struggle was not over – that much was plain from their demeanor. He did not know that their depression stemmed more from the seemingly insoluble loss of their younger friends than from the scenes of horror they had witnessed in the warzone of mainland Tokyo.

The Digimon also were concerned about their vanished compatriots, but for the moment they were too exhausted to do much more than sit on the beach near their partners. Gomamon was too tired even to take a dip in the water. The children knew that before long they should return home and get their partners something to eat. For now, though, they only sat and stared at nothing. The dust of the disaster area still clung to them.

Many of them wondered what came next. After the rest of this terrible night and the nightmares it would bring there would come a day… and what could they do? As far as they knew the enemy had no more Digimon in the human world, and that was undoubtedly for the best, but what if it meant all they could do for now was wait? Wait for what? What would the end be? They seemed more in the dark now than they’d yet been this summer.

When they had first stumbled across Sora’s father they had explained to him in a somewhat guarded fashion what had happened that night, but for several minutes now everyone had been quiet. Professor Takenouchi had been taking that time to turn everything that he had learned over in his head, and he was the one to break the silence.

“How much do you know about this enemy you’re facing?”

After an uncomfortable pause Sora answered.

“Not much, really. It’s a group of humans and Digimon, but we don’t know what their goal is.”

Taichi had been informed of one of their goals in the previous night’s dream, but he didn’t bring it up.

“This is the first time we’ve encountered a group of humans working alongside destructive Digimon,” Koshiro said. “Furthermore, the group has the power to influence our dreams.”

“Not just us,” Yamato added, remembering Takeru’s speculation that the nightmares were also affecting their parents and even people with no connection to them or the Digimon.

“I’ve also had strange dreams lately,” Sora’s father said. “Many of them seem to be connected to the Digimon in some way. I wonder what it all means. I’m trying to look at things from a mythological perspective, but dreams have been important in so many cultures. The Digimon you’ve been fighting recently in this world resemble evil beings from Western religions, but I don’t know if that should tell us anything.”

Again they fell silent, and their combined gaze was drawn to the darkness of the bay, as if it were the embodiment of the mystery they were attempting to unravel.

“The ocean,” Taichi muttered to himself. A few of the others looked at him expectantly. “Maybe there’s something you can tell me,” he said, raising his voice and addressing the professor.

“Yes?”

Taichi said nothing for a few seconds, carefully collecting his thoughts so as not to give away more than he meant to. “We think the enemy has something to do with another world, a dark world that looks like an ocean.” He swallowed. “Hikari, my sister, went there once. She met these fish-man things that looked like Digimon but might not have been. They talked about an evil god that lived in the ocean. Does that sound like anything you know of?”

“Supernatural beings associated with the ocean are like dreams,” the professor answered. “They have a role to play in many cultures. Japanese folklore, for instance, speaks of evil beings living in the ocean, like the umibozu, though most creatures like that aren’t considered gods. Let me think…”

They waited.

“The Digimon that you’ve fought recently are all based on gods and demons from Western religions. I wonder…” He paused. “There have been rumors in the anthropological community for many years about the existence of a kind of cult that worships an ocean god a little like what you describe – not the sort of thing a normal person would worship.”

His eyes widened in the darkness.

“And after all, why not? If Digimon are the spirits of legend made real, why wouldn’t there be a type of person who might decide to worship them like people once worshiped the gods they represent? To someone like that, normal human concerns wouldn’t matter. There’s no telling what they might do, or why they might do it. This group of humans you’ve encountered could be such people!”

“It’s possible,” Koshiro said grimly, and Professor Takenouchi’s excitement at his new theory died as he remembered what it meant for his daughter and her friends.

“They’d have to be crazy,” Taichi said.

“They are,” Jou reminded him. “We know.”

“Isn’t there more you could find out, Professor Takenouchi?” Mimi asked.

“Maybe,” he answered. “I’ll get in touch with some colleagues and see what we can dig up. For now, let’s go—” He almost said “to bed,” went with “home,” instead. “It’s been a long day for all of you and your Digimon.”

They all rose, stretching their stiff joints.

“Let’s go, Piyomon,” Sora murmured to her partner, who had been roosting on the sand with closed eyes. The Digimon were roused, and the oddly assorted group moved together away from the water and toward the apartment buildings of Odaiba. Just as the group was about to split up, however, Sora’s father let out what sounded like a grunt of surprise. “What is it?” Sora asked him.

“It’s… something I just remembered about that cult I told you about,” he answered. “They were supposed to believe that one day their god would rise from the sea—” He hesitated, and the Chosen Children sensed that something unwelcome was coming. “And that the event would be preceded by earthquakes,” he finished.

***

Upon their return to the dark monastery with the Digimon in human shape, the Dark Man and Anubimon had parted ways, the former vanishing down a black corridor with his reluctant charge. The journey back to the lair had been quicker than the journey to the frozen world’s doorway, not thanks to the Dark One’s ability to warp space but to his relentless driving of the girl. It was fortunate that she had retained a Digimon’s resilience. The walk through unforgiving terrain would have left a human body ravaged at that pace.

Anubimon wondered who this “Natsu” was. The Dark One had said nothing more on the subject. That she would be another instrument with which to harass the Chosen Children Anubimon could guess easily enough, but her history and true identity remained a mystery. He did know that her condition had something to do with the constellation of little floating lights that followed her about. He’d been able to sense the corrupt and corrupting data they harbored, and though they had provided the only light in Sato’s lair he was glad to see them go.

Once again he was left alone in the meandering halls, and resisting the impulse to despair he had resumed his interrupted search for the Chosen Children’s cells. If he could find even one… But of course that was a vain fantasy. Still he wandered. Long hours passed, until he had almost lost the memory of light. _I will go insane before long,_ he thought. _No creature can remain sane in a world without light._

He’d had the vague impression for some time that the trend of his path was downward. That wasn’t intentional on his part – it made him uneasy to find himself burrowing deeper into the bowels of the hellish plateau. At long last he came to a hall that seemed perfectly level, a little wider than the others and lacking branches, and he was surprised to find that it ended in a vast and lofty chamber where the darkness was no longer absolute.

The space was remarkable not only for being visible but for being decorated. It was the only room he had yet seen in this brutal structure whose walls were more than blank rock. It didn’t strike him as an improvement. Murals both painted and sculptured ran from floor to ceiling, and their subject matter reminded Anubimon of the decorations in the control room of the base they had left in the Digital World, scenes to make the viewer shudder. Strange creatures stalked through them, ugly and palpably evil, sometimes depicted triumphant over the tiny, cringing shapes of humans and Digimon.

Anubimon paused aghast, wondering if such creatures could really exist. If so, they were possibly akin to the Dark One, and maybe one of his forms was actually among them, unrecognized by one who had seen as yet only two of his guises. The room’s focal point seemed to be the depiction of one particular figure that stretched almost from the whole height of the room. It stood at the point farthest from the room’s entrance, and in spite of his repulsion Anubimon walked forward to get a clearer look at it.

In doing so he was lucky to stop in time, for at his feet there suddenly yawned a great pit that he had not seen due to his focus on the murals. He looked down quickly, and realized that he had found the true source of his apprehension, which deepened continually as he gazed. It looked like water – a shadowy whirlpool. Staring at it, he couldn’t decide how deep it was, but it had a sense of profundity that made him dizzy.

What was the purpose of this place, and of that strange swirling well in particular? Had it always been here, or had Sato had it constructed? As he continued to wonder, Anubimon backed away from the sinister pit. The spiral of gray water beckoned to something inside him when he was near it. He sensed that the well was hungry, a maw continually drawing something intangible out of the air and down into a bottomless abyss.

As he drew back Anubimon threw a last glance up at the titanic figure on the wall. Its color was like the water in the well, dark and indeterminate, and its form like something glimpsed in a half-forgotten nightmare, twisted and shapeless, a mass of intertwined tentacles. In the shadows near the ceiling hints of wings and the shape of a head could be dimly seen. The head’s bulbous outline lent it the suggestion of a wicked intelligence, contrasted with the brutish teeth and tentacles at its lower extremity, and Anubimon was thankful that in the gloom he could not make out its expression.

He turned and retreated down the corridor at a brisk pace. What it all meant he couldn’t say with certainty, but his soul understand well enough what his mind could only grasp a part of. The monstrosity on the wall was the key to everything. It could only be the abominable Thing for which Sato had toiled – Anubimon could not doubt that such a creature truly existed. Even its portrait seemed alive and watching.

And what of the well and the whirlpool whose mouth it formed? Terror hung about it. Before he had looked down and seen it Anubimon had felt it like a cold draft, sucking greedily, calling, calling…

He thought back to the place they had left and its room of awful machines. Somewhere above him now the systematic torture of the Chosen Children that had begun the night before continued unabated. Could it be that there was more than cruelty behind this? The Digimon in the rows of generators had suffered for a purpose. Of that much he was sure. Perhaps, in the cells of the six human prisoners, that horrific process went on.


	115. Nat-chan

_“Then the snow thickened, till he no longer saw the guiding gleam, and knew not if he still wandered through the walled pass, or was lost upon some bournless plain of perpetual winter.” – Clark Ashton Smith, “The White Sybil”_

Sato sensed that he was no longer alone. He’d emerged from his private chamber once his mood for reflection had passed, and now stood once more in the dim glow of the domed central room’s computer screen.

“Yes, what is it?”

“There appears to be a little problem,” the Dark Man’s voice answered.

“I don’t see what it could be. Within another day at most we’ll have harvested enough negative energy to achieve our goals.” As he spoke his eyes were on the screen, which displayed a number of readouts providing him with various estimates.

“Oh, of course. But that won’t mean much to you if by that time you’ve been blasted from the face of existence.”

“I’m not allowed to die,” Sato said in a low voice. He turned away from the screen to face the shadowy figure of the Dark Man. “But get to the point.”

“We’ve been found out,” the Dark Man told him. “There is one less Parasimon on the plateau, and it shouldn’t be too long before Demon himself is on his way here.”

Sato frowned. “Yes,” he said. “That could be a problem. When would you expect him to arrive?”

“Sooner than would be ideal, I’m afraid,” the Dark Man sighed. “He’s not known for his patience.”

“He’ll want the Dark Seed,” Sato muttered to himself. “Maybe more. The situation would be too unpredictable. We must be prepared. I’ve come too far to be interrupted now.” He raised his voice as he addressed the Dark Man. “I leave it to you. Deal with the threat as you see fit. If at all possible, the time awaited for so long will not suffer another delay.”

“You’re out of patience too, I see,” the other chuckled. “If you think it wise to divert my attention to the problem…”

“And why not?” Sato snapped. “What else is there for you to do? If the Chosen Children need any special attention I’ll see that they get it.”

“You’re the boss. Give them my regards if you happen to run into them.” With a glitter of eyes and flash of teeth he walked off into the darkness, and Sato turned back to the screen.

***

The room was of ice. By now the layer of frost that had spread across the floor from Nat-chan’s body had climbed the walls and crawled across the ceiling, leaving no patch of the stone surface bare. For a long time now there had been little sound or movement from the two human figures on the floor. Though the room was not especially large, they seemed lost in it.

Daisuke felt lost as well. His whole body was numb from the cold, and his mind seemed numbed with an unfamiliar sensation – the beckoning of despair. So far he had not been able to drag himself away from Nat-chan’s side, but he knew from glances around the room that there was no way out. He had the subconscious notion that he could find a way out eventually – that much of optimism still remained to him – but he couldn’t think of any possible way to save Nat-chan.

Her lower extremities continued to dissolve with agonizing slowness, and he was terrified of moving her lest he make things worse. That final scene in the generator room came back to him. She hadn’t done anything to deserve a fate like this, any more than those poor Digimon in the machines had. Would he have to lose her? She’d only wanted a friend! And instead she got…

“Damn it,” he sobbed. One of his cold tears left his face and fell soundlessly on Natsu’s. A moment later her eyelids trembled, and then partly rose. A second or two passed before Daisuke noticed, but when he did he blinked away his tears as best he could and looked at her. Her expression was blank, but not idiotic. After a few moments more her lips moved.

“They’re gone,” she whispered. Then she seemed to see the face hanging above hers for the first time. “Daisuke. Thank you.”

“For what?” he asked, bitterly. “I couldn’t do anything to help you. I still can’t! And now you’re…” He broke off, choking back further tears.

“But you were there,” she said softly. “You listened to me. You cared!” They were both quiet for a moment, she thinking back, he uncomforted. “I used to hate everyone, and everything,” she said, and for a moment her eyes took on a harder glint. “I was so tired of being all alone. Then…” The eyes softened as she refocused on him. “Thank you,” she repeated.

“I messed up on everything,” Daisuke responded. “Everyone knows I do. I couldn’t find your partner for you. If I hadn’t sent you back to the Digital World, maybe… That monster! And now he’s got the others too, and I can’t help them either. I’m so stupid and useless!”

“Is… Is Chibimon alright?” the girl asked.

“No,” Daisuke groaned. “He’s gone! That bastard killed him. And all the other Digimon are gone too.”

“Maybe it’s my fault,” Nat-chan said. “I couldn’t fight those…” She groped for the word. “Fireflies. I’m so glad they’re gone, but… now it’s too late.”

There was no sorrow audible in that last statement. She seemed not to consider the slow approach of her death a tragedy. If she had analyzed her thoughts she might have come to the conclusion that death was a small price to pay for an escape from eternal cold and loneliness. Though she would have liked to stay with Daisuke forever, she knew in her heart that death was the only real door to summer remaining.

“It’s not your fault,” Daisuke said, breaking a long silence. “If even Imperialdramon couldn’t beat him—” He broke off, feeling the need to hit something, but instead his gloved hands only tightened on Nat-chan’s shoulders. He felt how light she seemed now, and he darted a glance down towards where her feet had been. It had been a while since he had dared to. By now both feet were gone, and one leg had disappeared almost up to the knee.

“Does it hurt?” he asked, in a hushed voice.

“No,” she said. “Not much. It feels… not cold. Parts of me aren’t cold anymore.”

Again Daisuke’s gaze swept the room. Nothing but ice-coated stone on every hand.

“I hate waiting like this,” he said. “I just wish there was something I could do!”

“Can you… stay with me?” Natsu asked. “Can you stay with me until…?”

“Yeah,” he said, looking down at her again with a pained expression. “Yeah, I’ll stay with you. Whatever happens.”

Another minute or two slipped quietly by.

“I’m sorry for all that’s happened,” Nat-chan said.

“Me too,” Daisuke answered, after a pause. He didn’t see what she had to apologize about. She couldn’t help what the Dark Man had done to both of them. If anything it was Daisuke’s repeated failures to set things right that called for an apology. He must make up for it. Nat-chan needed him. Somewhere, maybe nearby, his other friends needed him too. Somehow he would save them. He would break free of this room after… after…

Reality leapt up to strike him in the face. “Somehow” wasn’t an answer. Nat-chan was dying right in front of him, and he couldn’t think of a single thing to do that might stop that. Was there really no way to save her, or was he just too stupid to see it? Thanks to his imprisonment he’d had plenty of time to take stock of the situation, something he usually didn’t bother to do, but emotional stress had left his thoughts hopelessly muddled.

For several minutes more he tried to solve the puzzle, not looking at Nat-chan, but he could neither make progress nor anything that might be mistaken for progress. “What can I do!?” he grated, tears again threatening. Hearing him, Nat-chan opened her eyes again.

“You don’t have to do anything for me,” she said. “I’m just glad being with you. I was glad when we met. I think, maybe, it’s best this way. So please just be with me. Don’t be angry.”

“But—”

“We’re together now – that’s enough. Let’s just talk.” A small measure of her former vivaciousness seemed to return to her as she spoke. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I… I really don’t want to talk about that,” Daisuke said. “I can’t just talk about things like nothing’s happening. Maybe… if you want to tell me about you…”

Now it was her turn to frown. “I don’t remember,” she said. “ _He_ did something to me. I can’t even remember my name. I mean, before I was Nat-chan. I was so cold,” she whispered, moisture quivering in her eyes. “So alone…”

“Hey,” Daisuke said, alarmed. His own anguish was temporarily forgotten as he sought to reassure her. “That’s all over now, right?”

“Yes,” she said, and managed a weak smile.

For a long while the room was quiet. Natsu seemed relaxed, perhaps numbed by the steady loss of data. Daisuke watched her face in fascination – he tried to resist the urge to see how much of her had disappeared. He recognized now the truth of the Dark Man’s remark. In a strange way she did resemble Hikari-chan. At the thought of Hikari he had to repress another frustrated outburst. His insides felt wrenched by considering what she and the others might be going through.

So he tried not to think, about anything, as the glacial minutes passed. No use to think anyways. It got him nowhere. He was just too stupid, and with the loss of V-mon it seemed his only source of power had been taken from him. For perhaps the first time in his life he felt truly helpless. He closed his eyes, hung his head, and gave up to despair.

What may have been hours slipped by.

Cold… Numb… He could never be warm again…

“Daisuke…”

The whisper woke him up to external things. He felt almost as if he had fallen asleep. Suddenly he remembered hearing somewhere that falling asleep in the cold of winter meant certain death, and was relieved that neither he nor Nat-chan had succumbed yet. He could see that she was awake now – her eyes were open, and she had whispered his name.

“What?” he asked, his voice small.

“I wish Chibimon was here.”

Daisuke closed his eyes against the tears.

“But since he’s not,” she continued, murmuring as if half awake, “could you be my partner?”

“…Yeah,” he answered. “We can be partners.”

A contented smile touched the dying face. “Thank you,” she breathed.

_It’s the only thing I can do,_ he thought, having at least the tact not to say it. He didn’t want to darken her final hours with his own terrible pain. And so they both lapsed into a lasting silence. By this time the upper half of Natsu’s body had begun to dissolve.


	116. Two Evils

_“He had been for aeons…it was told in tradition and runes inscribed in a dead language, the language of Old Gods, and in the time when dark magical powers had battled for possession of the universe.” – R. H. Barlow, “The Tomb of the God”_

Demon listened to the IceDevimon’s report with slitted eyes that burned even so with the blue found in flame.

“So, Dagomon,” he said as his informant ceased to speak, “you have succeeded better than I anticipated. And in doing so you have delivered to me my prize.” He addressed the IceDevimon in a louder rasp. “I’m leaving. You are dismissed.”

As his servant bowed Demon opened a portal at his feet and sank into it. For a few moments he was wrapped in violet darkness, and his laugh echoed through the space between spaces as he thought of the fulfillment at hand. Then the purple glow gave way to gray sky, and below him was the darker gray of the plateau of Leng. Some distance ahead of him crouched the low bulk of the abandoned monastery, built before Demon’s advent to the Dark World by an unknown group for the worship of unknown powers of Darkness. For many ages it had stood empty – until now.

Demon glided forward, as yet seeing no signs of habitation. He would have to reduce his size to enter the building, but he looked forward to pouring fire through its corridors as he searched for the Chosen Children – first and foremost for Ichijouji Ken, and the Dark Seed.

Still hovering, he was approaching the monastery’s black entrance when there came a movement on the roof, about the level of his eyes. A man, or something that could pass for a man, stood there, and Demon recognized him as the mysterious visitor to his throne room.

“I’ve decided to refuse your offer,” Demon said. “My own is that you hand over the Chosen Children… and the Dark Seed. In exchange I may consider not reducing you, all your allies, and this building to ash and rubble.”

The Dark Man grinned broadly.

“You must be feeling generous,” he remarked. “Unfortunately, I can’t accept either.”

“Then you will die,” Demon answered, with no trace in his voice of the other’s humor.

“It’s a pity it has to come to this,” the Dark Man said. “You have so many admirable qualities. But I was called here by the will of another, and I’m afraid I have a job to do.” With a swift motion he crossed his arms before him, and the darkness of the plateau redoubled as he did so. **“Mask Change! … Pharaohmon!”**

With this new transformation the Dark One had retained something of his human features, though he stood taller than any mortal man, and the eyes in the golden death mask glowed with a redness undimmed by the atmosphere of the Dark World. He wore a whitish cape and breechcloth, and his body was fully wrapped in linen the color of tarnished gold. But for all his ghostly majesty the voice was the same as ever.

“You like that? ‘Mask Change’? I fit right in.”

“So you can change your form,” Demon muttered, showing no surprise at the strange transition. “But that won’t matter in the end.” His hand arose, full of fire. **“Flame Inferno!”**

The pharaoh only smiled and held out before him his staff, topped with a gold serpent coiled into the sign of infinity. As the gout of flames approached its target there was a sudden change in the attack’s behavior. The fires converged at a single point, and in another moment a dense ball of burning energy lay prisoned in the circle of the snake’s body, like soap in a bubble wand – the lightness of the Dark One’s manner inviting the comparison.

“You don’t seem to have a very good memory,” he said. “I hope you weren’t expecting to kill me with that.”

“Your tricks can only delay the inevitable,” said Demon, bringing his hands together to conjure a more powerful blast of flame. As he hurled it the Dark One swung his staff, and the next moment there was an explosion that scorched the stone of the building and plateau for a hundred meters round. The smoke cleared, and each combatant saw the other standing unharmed. Demon spoke again.

“It is strange that I have never heard of you. You are one of the few I’ve encountered whose power can challenge mine. Just who are you?”

“Pharaohmon, at the moment,” the other smiled.

“Don’t play games with me,” Demon snarled. Rather than resort to his fire a third time, Demon swept toward his opponent on his dark wings, hands at the ready with talons that glowed a dull crimson. As the distance closed between them, the Dark One raised his own arms – not in self-defense, but as if in invocation.

**“Necro Mist!”**

Even as the words formed something stirred at his feet. A faint purple mist, seemingly exhaled from the stones of the monastery itself, rose upwards like a phantom barrier. Demon’s eyes narrowed at the development, but he did not slacken his speed. The wall of mist had now become a billowing cloud. In another moment Demon would meet it, but before any collision could take place the Dark One grinned toothlessly, and pointed at his opponent as if siccing a hunting dog. Instantly the purple mist surged forward, and in the instant before he met it Demon could see it taking the shape of a huge head – the head of Pharaohmon.

The next moment his entire body was enveloped in a chill like death. The mist seemed to sink into him, poisoning his data, attempting to corrode it away to nothing. He flexed his stiffened claws and wings in perplexed rage. It would take more than this attack to defeat him – much more – but in that moment he grasped the fact that this would be a battle unlike any other. He knew now that for perhaps the first time he faced a being with the capacity to destroy him. Fury erupted in him at the thought, and in a few seconds the clammy mist had burned away under his leaping flames.

“Nothing will stand in my way for long!” he shouted. “Die!”

A blazing wall advanced on the Dark One. Again he raised his hand his arms in an imperious gesture, and the mists of death oozed out of the air and stone to answer his summons. A shrieking hiss arose where fire and fog collided, each obliterating the other. And through this chaos charged Demon. His talons tore into his enemy’s regal wrappings, and the Dark One fell back under the assault, his staff knocked from his grasp.

**“Flame Inferno!”**

At such close range the flames could hardly miss, but no sooner had Demon released them than they were repelled, leaving the Dark One unscorched. As the fire cleared Demon saw why. Another object had appeared in his enemy’s grasp – a body-length shield like the golden lid of a sarcophagus.

“How long will this childishness last?” Demon growled at Pharaohmon’s placidly smiling face. “Your attempts to defeat me have failed. Why prolong your life with these toys?”

“Can’t the game be played for its own sake?” the Dark One asked. “You’ll miss out in the end, Demon. ‘Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.’”

“That’s the second time I’ve been called a fool,” Demon answered in a low but dangerous voice. “Dagomon’s minions were destroyed for their insolence, and now you will join them.” His wings stretched wide as his hands came together. Instead of flame, a sphere of glowing blue energy grew between his palms, lightning arcing across its surface as it grew. **“Chaos Flare!”**

The Dark One only raised his shield as the orb of radiance sped towards him. Then orb and shield met, and the combatants’ surroundings seemed to vanish in a furious blast of light and a crash of deafening sound.

***

Somehow Anubimon had found his way out of the labyrinth of tunnels that guarded the terrible chamber where the figure of Sato’s unknown master gazed down at the bottomless whirlpool. These upper halls seemed almost welcoming by contrast, though he remained essentially lost. Maybe in the end he would be left to wander the lightless passages forever, immured long after his last chance of helping the Chosen Children had slipped away. He could still find no hint of their presence. He knew his search was pointless, but a grim sense of duty and an unwillingness to think kept him going.

Then he did pause. Was it his imagination, or had the atmosphere changed somehow, become suddenly less oppressive? He tried to analyze the sensation. There certainly was no visible change – the corridor remained as dark as ever – but some underlying sinister quality in the air seemed to have lessened. For some reason he thought back to his earlier brooding on the spirits of Digimon he had condemned to this world. Was it their presence that was now missing? It seemed almost as if the dark powers had been called away by some imperious command. What if…

He raised a hand, invisible in the blackness, and held it open before him. He closed his eyes and focused his will on that hand. And after a few moments, a dim glow began to filter through his eyelids. Opening his eyes he saw that he was not deceived. A spark of light hovered over his open palm, taking various regular shapes – a cube, a pyramid.

“It’s true,” Anubimon said, his voice startlingly loud after the long silence. There came a hint of an echo, and he clamped his mouth shut. But there was the ghost of a smile on it. Ever since entering the Dark World something had been suppressing his holy powers. Now he had them back, if only in a very small measure. He didn’t know the cause, but it didn’t really matter. He had to find a way to put his abilities to use before they were stolen from him again.

Again he closed his eyes, concentrating hard. His senses gradually expanded. There was a chance now… the slimmest possible chance…

Then his concentration shattered. From somewhere overhead came a sound like thunder, and the stones of the monastery seemed to shudder as in a violent earthquake. Anubimon staggered. From places both far and near he heard the sound of newly made rubble falling. He couldn’t imagine what had happened, and couldn’t know whether it boded well or ill for him. Regaining his balance he ran around the nearest corner. As he’d suspected, the corridor beyond was now littered with debris – he could see it because great cracks had appeared in the stone roof, letting in the dim phosphorescence of the gray sky.

Anubimon wondered briefly whether it would be useful to fly out of the building through one of the rents in the stone, but he dismissed the idea. After all, he didn’t know what it was out there that had caused such incredible destruction, and there was no guarantee that finding another entrance would help his search. Better not to expose himself unless he had to.

He tensed suddenly as the voice of the Dark One, strangely magnified, came down to him from outside. He couldn’t understand what was said, but another voice answered – a voice he didn’t recognize, and which unlike the other, deceptively jovial voice sounded openly hostile. Could there be a battle underway between the Dark One and something else? Who was the opponent that could thus stand against it? But for now he put the question out of his mind. The Dark One was currently occupied. Combined with the damage to the monastery and the partial return of his holy power, he had an unparalleled opportunity, one he might not have again.

He leapt over the larger stones in his path and sped back into the darkness of more reliable shelter. But the darkness was now far from complete. As he went, he tried to shut out the sounds from above. His heightened senses were intent on detecting any clue that might lead him to a Chosen Child, and a faint glow went with him.


	117. Breaches

_“He felt a revival of volition and a great desire to escape from the gulf and from all that dwelt in its darkness.” – Clark Ashton Smith, “The Dweller in the Gulf”_

Ken stood in indecision amid the rubble that had lately formed part of a wall of his cell. He looked into the darkness before him, and then turned to the darkness behind, wincing at the pain in his back. The Troopmon responsible for flogging him had left long ago, but the sting of the Kaiser’s whip lingered. Ken hadn’t been able to decide whether the beating or the hanging from the handcuffs had been worse. One cuff still remained attached to his lacerated wrist – by some miracle the other hadn’t been refastened after he’d been let down. Even as it was he’d had a difficult time climbing out of his damaged prison.

His current indecision did not concern whether or not to leave the cell behind and seek his friends. There was no question about his having to find them, and he definitely wasn’t going to wait around for the next torture session. But which way should he go? The corridor remained very dark despite the rift in the ceiling, and his eyes found no hint as to what path he should take. Maybe it didn’t matter. After all, he had no criteria by which to make a judgment. No sound could be detected besides the noise of the battle somewhere above him – if more of the Dark Man’s minions lurked in the shadows he didn’t hear them.

He decided to get moving. For all he knew the Dark Man was already aware of his “escape,” and if he were going to be recaptured he at least didn’t want to make it easy for them. Ignoring the welts on his back and holding the unlocked cuff in his hand to minimize clinking, he started off into the darkness.

***

No more than a couple minutes had passed before Anubimon checked his race through the corridors, coming to a halt before he had even realized why. It was nothing he had seen or heard. He couldn’t quite define the sensation, but he thought he understood what it meant. Someone was nearby – a person whose aura seemed distinctly out of place in this stronghold of evil. In the past, flashes of intuition like this had aided him in the judging of deleted Digimon. Here he felt confronted by a soul that did not deserve to be damned.

He began to feel along the walls with his hands. In his wanderings he’d had a good deal of time to ponder the workings of the building. For the most part the place seemed to consist of corridors, but whenever he tried to get a sense of the layout he would notice that there was a good deal of space unaccounted for. His conclusion had been that a number of chambers existed that were sealed off somehow, though accessible to Sato and the Dark One, and it must be in these that the Chosen Children were to be found.

The question then became how to access these hidden rooms. Could only those who used the power of darkness reveal the way, or was there some mechanism that opened the invisible doors? Could Anubimon use his offensive techniques to break through? If this had been the Digital World he would have felt no concern on that count – useless though his attacks might be against the Dark One, a wall should be something he could easily destroy. He would try an attack as a last resort, but for now it seemed better not to draw attention to himself and to hope that an entrance could be effected by mechanical means.

For several minutes his careful search continued and his impatience built. No sign of a hidden switch or button. Did he have the wrong wall? Should he try the one behind him instead? He began to worry that his instincts had misled him, and perhaps it was that fear of ultimate failure that decided him. A battle still raged above. If it turned out he did have the power to break through a wall, he should be able to deal with any enemy he might alert – except for the Dark One, and noises from above told him that the Dark One remained locked in battle.

He stepped back from the wall and raised his hands. Holy powers he might not be able to rely upon in such a place, but there was another power at his disposal, and with luck the atmosphere of the Dark World had not been able to deprive him of it. He was relieved when a dull greenish glow began to emanate from his palms.

**“Ammit,”** he whispered. With a hollow roaring sound a ray of light bridged the distance between Anubimon and the wall, and beneath its impact the black stone disintegrated. Several other blasts of green energy followed, and in the end left a ragged hole in the rock that Anubimon could duck through and enter the room beyond.

He wasn’t sure what to expect. Long accustomed to the darkness of the monastery, his eyes had been dazzled by the radiance of his attack, so that at first he saw only blackness in the invaded space. Rather than remain in suspense as his eyes readjusted, he again conjured the little shape of yellow light, and by its candle-like glow he saw that his senses had not been deceived.

Beyond a thin stone pillar a human form lay. It was a girl, her eyes open and looking up at him, and her parted lips lending her pale face a wondering expression. He recognized her. He had indeed found one of the Chosen Children.

“Who are you?” she asked softly. He was glad she didn’t seem to be afraid of him. Perhaps she could sense his basic goodness, as he could hers.

“I am Anubimon,” he said. “I’m here to help. Can you walk?”

“Yes, I think so,” Hikari answered, getting slowly to her feet. “What’s going on?”

“I do not know,” he said, “but there is a chance now that you and the other Chosen Children can escape from here. Do you know where the others are?”

“No,” she said, walking over to where he waited, stretching her cramped muscles. “We have to find them,” she continued, as urgency crept into her voice. “He might have…”

Anubimon nodded. “Let’s go. We may not have much time.”

She followed him out into the hallway, almost unable to believe what was happening. While immured in her cell she had found it impossible to hope. She hardly dared hope now. If this turned out to be a pleasant dream, the awakening would be crueler than any nightmare. But she couldn’t deny it – the hope was there. What was it Qinglongmon had said, on that day that seemed ages ago? “No matter how dark, keep the light inside your heart lit.” She thought of Takeru and the others. She had to keep hope alive for their sakes if for no other reason.

“What is your name?” Anubimon asked, interrupting her thoughts before they had gone any great distance.

“Yagami Hikari.”

“Hm?” He let out a little sound of surprise. _A girl named Light,_ he thought. _There is something strange here; I will take it as a good omen._ He noticed that she was flagging – he hadn’t thought about the Chosen Children not being able to match his speed. Hopefully it wouldn’t complicate matters. He paused to give her time to catch up and catch her breath. It was no wonder she had trouble keeping up with those stiff limbs after the rigors she had undoubtedly been put through.

By the faint glow that shone around him Anubimon could see that just ahead the hall intersected with two others leading in opposite directions. Hikari came up and stood beside him, and together they looked at the dark rectangles for several seconds before she spoke.

“Which way should we go?”

“I don’t know,” Anubimon sighed. “I don’t sense any nearby presence. It seems as though I found you merely by chance.” He thought for a moment. “In many labyrinths,” he murmured, thinking back to the ancient buildings of the Digital World’s desert, “it is possible to navigate by placing a hand against one wall and following that wall until the destination is reached. It takes a long time, and may be thrown off by certain peculiarities, but it may be our only chance.”

Hikari’s heart sank. While she did not know exactly what events had made her rescue from the cell possible, she knew that time was running out for her and her friends to make good their escape. As it was she might already be too late to save them. They had been wanted alive, yes, but what if they had already served their purpose? All the countless apprehensions of those hours in the dark returned to her – the terrible things that could have been done to the others since their capture. It hit her almost like a physical pain.

“What can I do?” she whispered to herself, her head bowed. She could not allow them to suffer further. Her precious friends, more precious still now that Tailmon and the rest were gone. After everything they had been through together, all the times they had lent her their aid and support, she couldn’t let them down when they needed her. “And yet…” she whispered, tears beginning to escape her lowered eyelids. “Yet…”

Anubimon, focused what lay in front of him, did not hear. He had just chosen the left-hand hallway and was about to start forward when he sensed a difference in the atmosphere. Visually, too, there was a change. The glow surrounding him was not quite as faint as it had been. Were his powers returning in greater force? A noise behind him made him turn, and he stifled an exclamation when he saw Yagami Hikari collapsed against a wall. Already wan and pallid when he found her, she had grown paler still – but not with fatigue. She seemed infused with an inner radiance that glowed white.

“Hikari?” He held out his hand, but received no answer. Hikari had temporarily forgotten his presence. She felt strange, and yet her sensations seemed vaguely familiar. When had this come over her before? The feelings both unsettled her and lent her a vague hope. A new personality that seemed only half her own had stepped in, as it had once before, years ago, in another threatening maze.

“The light will guide us,” she murmured. A distant memory began to stir. In some intuitive way she was beginning to grasp the situation. She knew that an outside power had managed to find her, a power whose sympathy was with light. It gave her confidence, but at the same time she could sense that it was worried. It had not been worried the last time. The powers of darkness had pushed the universe to a tipping point. If she and her friends didn’t act now, all might be lost. She raised her gaze to meet Anubimon’s wondering eyes.

“We have to go,” she said. “The light will show us the way to the others, but we have to hurry.” As she spoke, the light from her body gathered itself into a beam like that of a searchlight, pointing to the entrance of the right-hand hallway. Hikari’s brief faintness had passed, and it was she instead of Anubimon who led the way. Her pace quickened until Anubimon had to run behind her to keep up. Her aching muscles bothered her little now – it felt good to be running towards something, rather than running away.

***

The foot of the sarcophagus lid clanged against the monastery’s roof. Cracks showed in its surface, but the face of Pharaohmon still wore a slight smile.

“We should really reschedule,” he said. “I’m afraid I have some pressing business to attend to just now.”

“Your business is with me,” said Demon, who appeared to be still unharmed by the vigorous fight. “If you were hoping to accomplish anything you should not have opposed yourself to me. I concede that your power is great, but not even you can defy me and live.”

“Have it your way,” the Dark One sighed. “Another round begins. **Necro Mist!** ”


	118. Hope

_“Through all this ordeal his root horror had been isolation, and there are no words to express the abyss between isolation and having one ally.” – G. K. Chesterton,_ The Man Who Was Thursday

It was the trembling of her cell that woke Miyako. An earthquake? Maybe, though perhaps not a real one. The hideous parasite seemed to have occasionally tired of tormenting her, but the visions it implanted in her mind remained difficult to separate from reality. She couldn’t quite be sure when it had really left and when it was hiding itself by manipulating her senses. Illusions aside, the presence of the thing grasping her was awful enough. Her instincts told her – logic had abandoned her in her condition – that what she felt at this moment was real. She was in the cell, with the Parasimon’s many appendages twitching before her. She heard its petulant whining in her ear, her brain.

“Now what is this?”

For the moment its attention seemed to leave her. She felt a little more lucid, and twisted about in an attempt to escape the monster’s clutch. Meanwhile the shaking of the building had subsided.

“Stop that! Hold still,” the Parasimon squeaked. There was a flash of blue as electricity surged through the tentacles, and Miyako went limp with a cry. The Parasimon tittered, but looked in confusion about the room even as it did so. Another tremor, more violent than the first, had begun. From above came a thunderous crack.

Something happened then, but it took a second for it to register on Miyako’s mind. Then she realized that a great chunk of stone had fallen from the ceiling. Beneath it lay the crushed body of the Parasimon, its exposed tentacles still feebly writhing. A few seconds more, and the huge stone hit the floor as its victim disintegrated. The nasty thing attached to Miyako’s back had also disappeared.

But although thankful for her torturer’s sudden demise, Miyako remained locked in place by her handcuffs, unsure of what was happening and worried that any moment the Parasimon’s fate might become hers as well. What was happening up there? A minute or two passed and the collapse was not repeated, though she thought she could hear other, more distant blasts. It definitely wasn’t just another earthquake.

She remained in suspense for some time. No more large blocks fell from the ceiling, and no new Digimon appeared to harass her. The doorway through which her visitors had come still gaped open, left unclosed by the dead Parasimon. She stared into the dimness beyond it, but nothing stirred. It looked like the immediate danger had passed, at least, and for a while the discomfort of her position claimed most of her attention. 

But then the silence was broken, if only slightly, by the approach of soft but rapid footsteps somewhere through the door and off to the right. Miyako wondered what was coming. She made an effort to brace herself for whatever this new being might be and what it might do, but felt too utterly drained to really do so. The padding feet grew louder. Then suddenly the runner leapt into view and stood framed in the opening, looking at her.

They took each other in at a moment’s glance. To Miyako, the figure looked less sinister than the other Digimon she had met in this place, but that might not mean anything. A canine head surmounted a winged, humanoid body, but in the gloom she could make out few details, and the next instant her attention shifted to the sound of another pair of approaching feet. Soon the other newcomer came into view, and Miyako’s mouth dropped open.

“Hikari-chan!”

“Miyako-san,” Hikari said, stepping forward into the room. “You’re alive. Thank goodness…” She closed her eyes, which were moist with relief. If Miyako was alright, perhaps all of the others would be too. As she drew closer to her friend, her face again grew troubled. Though still alive and whole, it was clear that Miyako had been put through a lot – if nothing else there was the cruelty of her restraints.

“Anubimon, would you help me?” Hikari asked, addressing the Digimon, who had remained respectfully quiet in the doorway. He approached and touched the handcuffs with fingers that glowed faintly, and they clicked open. Miyako stood where she was, rubbing her wrists and scarcely able to believe that this time she was truly free.

“Here, Miyako-san,” Hikari said gently, handing her the bundle of her clothing that had been lying in a corner of the room behind her.

“Th-thank you, Hikari-chan,” she said, taking them as her eyes welled up with tears.

“Are you… alright?” Hikari asked. “They didn’t…?” Her voice trailed off.

“I… I’m better now,” Miyako said. “But are Hawkmon and the rest really…?” She could see from the change of Hikari’s expression that it was true. The encounter in the desert had not been a dream.

“We must go,” Anubimon said, speaking for the first time. “Time is short, and there are still four Chosen Children to be found.”

Hikari nodded. “Hurry, Miyako-san.”

“Y-yeah.” Miyako worked quickly to get fully dressed, pulling on the red pants, slipping on the vest and zipping it up. Shaken anew by the confirmation of Hawkmon’s death, she was grateful for the presence of Hikari and the chance to find the others and escape. Without her friend’s support she would have never found the strength to make the attempt.

The three of them passed together through the doorway and headed down a wide hall to another opening, blasted open minutes before by Anubimon.

“Hey, what’s happening?” Miyako panted as they went on, trying to keep her voice low.

“There’s a fight outside,” Hikari answered. “Anubimon—”

“Hikari-chan!” Miyako interrupted.

“It’s alright,” Hikari said, nodding and not slackening her pace. She knew the cause of the exclamation, since she could see her light beaming ahead into the darkness, pointing out the way. “It’s nothing dangerous. The light’s here to help us.”

“The light…” Miyako repeated. She recalled now the light that had come to them before in a dark hour, though it was a little more startling to see it emanate from Hikari herself. But then there had always been something special about Hikari. Her Crest, of course, was the Crest of Light, emblematic of something that stood apart from the traits of the other eight.

But Miyako didn’t take the time to ponder about it. Her thoughts turned to the boys. She hoped they would find them soon, and find them as relatively unharmed as she and Hikari were. In the excitement of the moment she had almost forgotten about the pain she had suffered, and which had not entirely left her.

Not much time passed before the group’s winding route came to a sudden stop. The ray of light had ceased to point ahead and for a moment lit upon one of the gray walls before fading out.

“Here!” Hikari said.

“Yes,” Anubimon nodded. He raised his hands. “Please stand back. **Ammit!** ”

In a few moments an opening had been made, and the girls stepped closer to peer into it. Anubimon’s spark of yellow sprang up, and by its glow the three of them could make out the outlines of a small figure standing rigidly in the shadows of the breached room.

“Iori!”

“Miyako-san?” came the boy’s voice. “And… Hikari-san.” He stepped forward, giving Anubimon a quizzical glance.

“I am Anubimon,” the Digimon said.

“He helped us get out,” Miyako explained.

“I am Hida Iori,” Iori said, bowing. “Thank you. Are you the one who attacked this building?”

“No,” Anubimon answered. “I am a fellow prisoner. It’s fortunate that such a distraction allowed me to act.” _And perhaps something else,_ he thought, remembering the strange coincidence – if it was a coincidence – of his returning powers. At the touch of his hand Iori’s handcuffs fell to the floor.

“How can we find Takeru-san and the rest?” Iori asked.

“This way!” Hikari said, pointing down the hall as a pallid glow sprang up. “We’ll follow the light. Another is close!”

Iori’s surprise and curiosity could be plainly read in his expression, but the pragmatist in him realized that this was no time for lengthy explanations. If there never came a time when everything could be explained in safety, then there was little point in explaining at all.

***

Takeru stood, leaning with one shoulder against the wall. Much as it hurt his wrists, he continued to pull at the handcuffs, hoping against hope that something would give. With the cuffs on, there would be no chance of climbing out of this place. There was little enough chance if he could manage to get free of them. The blast from above had damaged the ceiling of his cell and one of the walls, but the ragged opening was a considerable distance above the floor. Still, with his hands free to reach, he might just be able to make use of the fallen debris to climb out of the room and begin his search for the others.

A flash of color against the leaden sky turned his attention suddenly upwards. He stifled an exclamation at the unexpected sight that met his eyes, but the next moment he realized that it made perfect sense. If this place was, as he had suspected, the World of Darkness, it was exactly where Demon had been left after his battle with the Chosen Children. Could he be working with Sato and the rest? But he seemed to be fighting something… A defensive halo of fire ringed him, though it faded as Takeru watched.

Given the angle and the relative narrowness of the hole in the ceiling, Takeru could not see what Demon was looking at. The Dark One still stood, his shield cracked and his golden wrappings no longer immaculate, but without apparent injury. He and Demon eyed each other in silence for a moment, and then the Dark One hefted the lid of Pharaohmon’s sarcophagus and hurled it with one arm.

**“Tut-Ankh-Lyl!”**

“What are you thinking?” Demon muttered, releasing bolts of purple energy from one hand. The barrage of beams struck the Dark One’s projectile in many places, shattering it completely into golden chunks. But the pieces still came on, seeming to actually pick up speed. From below, Takeru saw the razor-sharp fragments embed themselves in the fabric of Demon’s robes. Then, with an angry growl, Demon launched himself towards his enemy, and disappeared from Takeru’s view.

_What’s going on up there?_ Takeru wondered. Then, remembering his plan of escape, he began to work again at the handcuffs, gritting his teeth at how they chafed. He hoped that there would be enough strength in his wrists and wounded limbs when the time came to hoist himself out of this pit.

But that was a pointless concern. Takeru knew, though he couldn’t admit it to himself, that those handcuffs were not coming off. He had been pulling and prodding and fiddling with them for a long while now, trying the same strategies over and over, because he could not lie there and do nothing while his friends suffered. Sato Katsu had said his goal was to convince Takeru of the stupidity of hope. Yet without hope he had nothing. He refused to give in – to cease to hope, he felt, was to die.

Not that hope was easy. Hope was hard. Four years ago it had seemed a little easier, when he was younger and more naïve. It had literally saved his life in Piemon’s realm, where his denial of impending doom had triggered the super evolution to HolyAngemon. But here? Here he had no partner Digimon. Patamon – Takeru fought back a muffled sob – Patamon was gone. He might escape the handcuffs, escape the cell, but what then? What could he do in this dark world, with his friends in straits even more dire than his own?

He hoped because he could do nothing else. To cease to hope… That meant hell. That meant the end of his humanity.

Suddenly something else claimed his attention. From the adjacent room or hallway he detected a sound that was not the sound of the now-distant battle. He thought that it was the sound of footsteps. The person had been running, but as they approached their pace slackened, almost seemed to become more cautious. He heard the shifting of rock, and it occurred to him that the person had to be crossing the pile of debris that must lie on that side of the wall.

A louder sound came – stone sliding and rattling, and then the stumbler’s silence was broken by a cry of mingled surprise and pain. And Takeru recognized that voice.

“Ichijouji-kun?”

The call was out of his mouth before he could think better of it. Another moment of quiet. He waited in suspense. Then:

“Takeru-san?”

Takeru let out a sigh of relief. The last ember of his hope began to burn a little brighter.


	119. Near – Far

_“It came to pass with me when another three yards looks as unattainable as three miles. Once I stumbled… But I recovered myself.” – Sax Rohmer,_ The Insidious Dr. Fu-Manchu

Standing on either side of the damaged wall, the two boys quickly filled each other in on what they knew. Ken related the accident that had freed him. No, he hadn’t seen anyone else, Chosen Child or enemy.

“Be careful,” Takeru said, his voice slightly lowered, so that Ken had to strain to hear him. “Demon is up there.”

“Demon!” Ken exclaimed.

“He seems to be fighting something,” Takeru said. “He may be the one who attacked this building.”

_He’s here for me,_ Ken thought to himself. _No, not for me. For the Dark Seed._ It was reminiscent of the events in December. Once again Demon’s claim to the Dark Seed was being challenged. Ken didn’t know who the Demon Lord’s current opponent was, but he had a good guess.

“Is there any way you could help me over this wall?” Takeru’s voice came again.

Ken surveyed the scene in the hallway as best he could make it out by the non-light of the clouded sky. It looked like the majority of the rubble from the collapsed wall and ceiling had landed on his side rather than where Takeru was. The question was whether Ken could use it to help his friend out of the cell. Apart from the debris, the hall was as empty as the rest of the building, and Ken didn’t have much hope of finding anything more useful. He could have gone for help, but what help was there? Other Chosen Children may have managed to escape their cells as Ken had done, but even if so they would be of little help in this situation.

The problem appeared to be hopeless. The larger chunks of stone would probably be too much for Ken to move, particularly in his weakened state, and the smaller chunks would be too treacherous to climb on when piled. Still, he had to try something. It might be the only chance to free Takeru. One of the largest pieces of rubble leaned against the wall, taller than it was wide or long. Awkward as its orientation was, it would probably be the best starting place.

“I’m going to try,” he called over to Takeru, raising his voice so that he could be heard, though like his friend he didn’t want to shout loudly enough to draw the attention of those above. “Please wait a moment.”

Using a mid-sized stepping stone he made it atop the large piece against the wall. He stretched up the hand without a handcuff hanging from it, but his fingertips came short of the wall’s ragged top. He doubted he could reach it even by jumping. He looked back to the floor with a growing sense of futility. There wasn’t much room atop the stone he now stood on. Stacking stone fragments on top of it would be both difficult and dangerous. Still…

He jumped down to the ground, wincing a little at the impact. Back when the Dark Seed’s power flowed through him a drop like that would not have fazed him at all. The Digimon Kaiser would have had the strength and brains to engineer a way to reach Takeru. _But if I were the Digimon Kaiser I would leave him to die,_ Ken reflected. For a moment the task at hand slipped his tired mind as he reflected on what the Dark Seed had accomplished – and perverted – in a mere human, and how the ghost of Vamdemon had used it to effect his resurrection. If Demon ever did get hold of the Seed, there was no telling the extent of the evil he might unleash.

With a nervous glance up at the sky, Ken returned to the puzzle before him. He looked at the irregular blocks of stone, trying to select whichever might be most useful. It was as he bent to grasp one that he heard the measured padding of feet approaching down the shadowed corridor.

He froze, wondering what to do. If he could quickly navigate the cluttered floor it was possible that he might retreat until he found a branching corridor, but then he would run the risk of being cornered if the thing in the dark happened to choose the same route. Yet there didn’t seem to be any other option. Had Takeru heard the thing’s approach? If not he might unwittingly alert it to Ken’s presence.

Ken looked down at his feet, squinting to make out where the fallen stones lay in the dimness. Gingerly, but as quickly as he could, he began to move down the hallway, away from those deliberate footsteps. He couldn’t see what they belonged to, but his instincts decided it was of the same species as the Digimon that had come to him in his cell. The noises were what might be expected from their rubber-soled claws.

The strange chase continued. Ken knew what the inevitable end would be. With the rift of open sky above him, there was no way he could flee the area before the other saw him, unless it had considerably poorer eyesight than a human. The next moment his grim expectation was realized, as the footsteps picked up their pace. Turning to face his pursuer, Ken could see a dark bulk approaching, and before long he could make out the distinctive gasmask of a Troopmon.

Ken continued to back away, picking up one of the fallen rocks as he did so. It looked relatively sharp, but whether it was large or sharp enough to damage the strange, rubbery creature he had no way of knowing. He wondered if it would do any good to grapple with the Digimon. Due to its puffiness Ken could form no idea of how strong it was. _Strong enough to swing a whip,_ he thought, a scowl crossing his face.

“Ichijouji-kun?” called Takeru. Ken didn’t answer. As the Troopmon came to the stretch of rubble it checked its speed, and he took the opportunity to grab another stone and throw it as hard as his exhaustion and lingering pain allowed. The Troopmon raised an arm but wasn’t dexterous enough to keep the projectile from striking its chest.

No effect.

The choice Ken now faced was whether to run and risk becoming lost again in the labyrinth or to stand his ground. The deciding factor would have been whether the slowly advancing Digimon was any more vulnerable to the rock in Ken’s hand than the rock he had thrown, but Ken had no way of knowing that. For that matter, he had no idea what sort of attacks the thing might have, and no idea whether it would do him any good to merely outpace it.

Then a new factor entered into consideration. Somewhere down the corridor, far behind the Troopmon, Ken thought he detected a faint glimmering. Something else, it seemed, was approaching. His instincts told him to run. Unsure of his ability to deal with a single assailant, he couldn’t risk meeting any others. He only hesitated because of a minor incongruity. Though easily explained away, it struck him as odd that any creature of this dark prison should shine like that.

But the next moment the choice was taken out of his hands. There came a harsh pneumatic hiss, and with an alacrity he hadn’t expected the Troopmon leapt at him, and the metal-studded fingertips of its hand descended on his head. Slightly stunned, Ken slashed awkwardly at the thing’s body with the rock in his hand, but found the stone too dull to tear through the strange fabric. The Troopmon’s other hand had clamped upon his shoulder, and the lashes that had fallen there burned anew. Grunting with pain, striking repeatedly and futilely with his improvised weapon, Ken tried to break the clutch of the clumsy paws, but the Troopmon’s indefatigable strength squeezed him until he was half choked.

He could hear Takeru shouting something over the wall. Was it his imagination, or did he hear other voices rising just above the pounding of blood in his ears? He was sinking to the debris-littered floor… then the clutch of the misshapen hands fell away. Looking up, Ken saw the Troopmon turn, its attention caught by something behind it. Ken saw the form of another Digimon shoot above that of his attacker – a winged, stern-faced figure.

Before Ken had time to wonder what the newcomer’s arrival might mean, its claws had grabbed the Troopmon’s masked head, and under the pressure of those claws the gasmask crumpled and the rubbery suit split apart. Even as the fabric and metal dissolved into data something came pouring out – a half-visible gas or mist. Ken and his apparent rescuer looked at the strange cloud a moment as it hung in the air, but the next moment Ken’s attention was diverted by the sound of voices – this time there was no mistaking them.

“Ken-kun!”  
“Ichijouji-san!”

He saw them then behind the Digimon, running along the hall towards him. The light he’d seen before had died out, but by the phosphorescence of the sky he made out the figures of Miyako, Iori, and Hikari.

“Everyone—” he began, then fell silent as his voice caught in his throat.

“Ken-kun!” Miyako repeated happily. She had almost come up to him when Anubimon stretched out his arm to block her path. Surprised, she came to a stop. Anubimon was still gazing hard at the substance floating before him.

“More of the Dark One’s doing,” he muttered to himself. “How many blasphemies will he commit before he’s satisfied?” His hand softly glowing, Anubimon reached out towards the vapor, then grunted in surprise as it flowed quickly away from him, becoming one with the darkness of the hall beyond Ken and vanishing. Though visibly perplexed, Anubimon let his restraining arm fall, and Miyako picked her way forward over the rubble and extended her hand to Ken.

“Is everything alright?” came from over the wall.

“Takeru-kun?” Hikari asked, her smile widening.

“Hikari-chan! And Iori-san and Miyako-san… Thank goodness you’re all okay.”

“Stand away from the wall,” Anubimon warned. He and those with him heard several footsteps in the next room as Takeru obeyed.

**“Ammit!”**

Soon a hole large enough for Takeru to pass through had been made, and the five children greeted each other. More than anything, Takeru was overjoyed to see that Sato Katsu’s account of what he’d done to the others had been exaggerated.

“I was so worried,” he said, his eyes on Hikari.

“We all were,” she answered.

“And Motomiya?” Ken asked. The others’ smiles faded a little.

“Not yet,” Hikari said, “but it won’t be long now.”

“We should move on,” Anubimon said. He was thinking about that which had animated the Troopmon, and considering where it might have gone to in such a hurry.

Hikari nodded, and looked down the length of the black hall. The pale radiance that Ken had seen sprang up again, and his mouth opened in wonder as he saw its source.

“Hikari-chan’s light…” Takeru murmured. “Just like before…”

She gave him another brief smile, and led the way.

***

There could be no doubt of it. The screen showed that five of the six cells now stood empty. Sato sent electronic eyes scattering through the halls of the monastery, smoldering the while with a baffled rage. How could it possibly have happened? Surely the collateral damage from the Dark Man’s battle with Demon could not be wholly responsible.

“Sato-sama,” said the hissing voice of a Troopmon that had entered the room. “One or more of the Chosen Children have escaped.”

“I know that, you idiot!” Sato growled, his eyes never leaving the screen. “Get every single unit searching for them.” He would have threatened the creature with hells worse than this one if the search failed, but he remembered what the Dark Man had said of his creations’ lack of emotion, and didn’t bother.

_At the last moment,_ he thought, his teeth clenched and his eyes black with fury. _They escape now, when with another few hours all might have been ready._ “Enjoy your moment of freedom,” he hissed aloud. “I will crush you, drown you! Words cannot describe the fate that awaits you when next you fall into my hands, Chosen Children.”


	120. To Press on Together

_“Over the souls of men spread the condor wings of colossal monsters and all manner of evil things prey upon the heart and soul and body of Man. Yet it may be in some far day the shadows shall fade… And till then mankind can but stand up stoutly to the monsters in his own heart and without…” – Robert E. Howard, “Wings in the Night”_

For a few seconds a beam of light hovered on the corridor wall as Anubimon and the Chosen Children gathered round, then it faded, leaving the group in darkness. This section of the monastery seemed not to have taken as much damage as had been the case elsewhere. The blackness would have been total if not for the faint glow from Anubimon.

“Daisuke-san is here?” Takeru asked. Hikari nodded, and Anubimon prepared his attack. The children’s faces stood out ghostly in the greenish glow.

**“Ammit!”**

The roaring beams ate hungrily into the wall. Soon the light vanished, and the roaring with it, though in the dark stillness that followed the group could hear what sounded like dripping water. Hikari tensed at the sound, but it stopped almost immediately, and as they stood there the children’s dazzled eyes tried to pierce the darkness. They felt a breath of frigid air upon them, distinct from the habitual coolness of the monastery’s rooms and hallways. It was as if they had opened a door to a wintry night. To Anubimon something about this felt familiar, stirring in his heart a vague foreboding. He summoned his little spark, and the room beyond the broken wall shone a steely blue.

They saw something in the room’s center, a dark shape they couldn’t immediately recognize. It did not stir, and it wasn’t until the breathless silence was broken by a low sound that they realized what it must be. And yet…

The sound came again – a boy’s quiet sobbing. It chilled them fully as much as the air did. Takeru was the first to move, and Ken followed him through the aperture. One of Takeru’s feet slipped a little on the icy floor, and he winced at the pain in his wounded leg. Together the pair approached slowly, partly because of the slick stone and partly from trepidation, half expecting to see something horrific. But it was only Daisuke, apparently unharmed, though doubled over, shins and fists against the ground, head bowed, his tears dripping onto the ice.

“Daisuke…-san?” Takeru said softly.

Slowly, Daisuke half rose and lifted his face. Incredible though it seemed after the destruction of the wall and the light that followed, apparently he had only now realized that he was no longer alone.

“Takeru? Ichijouji?” Quickly he wiped at his face with the back of his hands and looked at them with clear eyes. “Then—everyone else…”

“They’re all okay,” Takeru said, smiling.

“Hikari-chan and—” Daisuke began, looking past them to those standing in the hall.

“But, are you alright?” Ken asked.

“They got out,” Daisuke murmured to himself, as if he hadn’t heard. “Of course. Better off without me.”

“Motomiya, what—”

“It’s not alright!” Daisuke interrupted him. “I couldn’t save her. I couldn’t do anything. Just like I couldn’t help anyone else.”

“You couldn’t save…” Takeru began.

“Nat-chan!” Daisuke answered, with something like anger. Then his expression changed. His eyes stared straight ahead into distance. “…You never met her,” he said softly. “No one ever saw her except… me… But I couldn’t…” He closed his eyes and drove the heel of his hand into his forehead. He’d begun to tear up again. “Ah! Useless! Everyone would be better off without me.”

The other Chosen Children said nothing, too mystified by the outburst. But for Anubimon understanding was dawning.

“I saw her,” he said. “Natsu, right?”

Daisuke opened his eyes and looked in Anubimon’s direction, as if noticing him for the first time.

“Who are you?”

“I am Anubimon. A friend.”

“He’s been helping us escape,” Hikari explained.

“You… knew Nat-chan?” Daisuke asked.

“I met her, but only briefly. I don’t know her story, but I am sorry to hear that she is dead. I pity her – it must have been hard. _He_ killed her, didn’t he?”

“ _He?_ ” said Daisuke, a fire lit in his eyes.

“The Dark One,” Anubimon said, nodding. “The being that defeated your partner Digimon.” All six of the Chosen Children looked at him. “I was there.”

“Armadimon…” said Iori.

“Hawkmon…” said Miyako.

On their faces and the faces of Hikari, Ken, and Takeru mingled emotions played – sorrow, anger, fear… For Takeru, it was anger that gained the upper hand.

“That thing…!” he muttered, fists clenched. “Where could something like that have come from? Not a Digimon… but so powerful… Could it have come from this world?”

“I do not think it did,” Anubimon said. “But this can be discussed later. For now the Dark One is distracted, but he may not remain so for long. Let us hurry while we have the chance to escape.”

Most of the children nodded, but before any of them moved—

“What’s the point?”

All eyes returned to Daisuke where he knelt upon the ice, his head hung forward. A few seconds of stunned silence passed.

“Daisuke…kun…” The shock that came through in Hikari’s voice expressed what all her friends were feeling. Miyako was next to find her voice.

“What do you mean what’s the point?” she asked, her voice shaky and indignant.

“What can we do if we get out of here?” Daisuke responded. “Without V-mon and the others, we can’t fight. We’ll just get killed, or put right back in here.”

“This isn’t like you, Daisuke-san,” Takeru said, sounding troubled.

“Doesn’t matter!” Daisuke said angrily. He still did not raise his eyes. “I don’t hear anyone answering me. All we can do is run and hide, and watch everything we care about die. If that’s the way it is… I’d rather just stay here!”

“M-Motomiya,” Ken stammered, “We’ve never given up before. There were times…” But he didn’t finish the sentence. There had never been a time like this, and he couldn’t pretend that wasn’t the case.

“There were times when we wanted to give up before,” Iori said, speaking up in Ken’s place. “But you never let us, Daisuke-san. Even though the situation looked hopeless.”

Daisuke said nothing. He still didn’t look up, and the others watched him, unsure of what more to say.

_Iori’s right,_ Daisuke thought. _But V-mon is gone. I watched Nat-chan die and couldn’t do anything. Could I go through that again if the next time it was Hikari-chan, or any of them? Without V-mon, I’m useless. I can’t fight those monsters on my own. I’m stupid – Takeru and the rest all know that. I don’t want to give up. But… but…_ Tears trembled once more at the corners of his eyes, when a solemn voice cut into his reflections.

“I have been where you are, Motomiya Daisuke.” It was Anubimon speaking. “For a long time I had given up. Only when the situation seemed darkest did I manage to break free of my despair. I can’t tell you with certainty that it made a difference in the end, because I do not know the future. But, for my heart…”

“Yeah.” Finally Daisuke raised his head and looked at his friends. His face was grim, but free of tears. “That’s right. If I give up now, V-mon died for nothing. Maybe things haven’t been this bad before, but that doesn’t mean I should do things differently. And besides… If I gave up now, there’s no way I could pay that bastard back, for V-mon, and Nat-chan.”

Takeru gave a grim nod, and offered his hand. Taking it, Daisuke got to his feet, and, accompanied by Anubimon, the Chosen Children left the chill of that room behind them.

***

Their race through the hallways of the monastery felt almost like a dream – less real than the nightmares they had lately suffered. The fate of their friends no longer in doubt, each of the children felt a kind of emotional exhaustion. They had nearly reached their physical limit as well. It occurred to a few of them to wonder how they could still move at all after a full day without food. Had something been administered to them while they were unconscious? Of course, Sato wouldn’t have wanted them to starve to death. It would have ended his sport too quickly.

The mysterious white light had appeared less often the longer the search for the imprisoned Chosen Children had lasted, but Hikari could feel the power of which it was a manifestation still with her. The personality that was half hers and half something else seemed to know the way, even without the guiding beam’s presence.

Twice the group had to negotiate a stretch of fallen rock. In these places a definite unease rose to the surface of their numbed hearts, for both times it meant a rift in the ceiling. Takeru and Ken had told the others of the terrible battle raging above them. Anubimon aided them in crossing the rubble as quickly as possible. He didn’t want to have to deal with Demon until they could find a way to get clear of the monastery. Once outside, the deceptively rugged terrain would help conceal them from his gaze. Of greater concern was the Dark One, whose eyes saw much, and perhaps saw all.

For now Anubimon kept his worst misgivings to himself. And a few minutes after leaving the second stretch of debris behind, his thoughts turned to more immediate concerns. Neither he nor the Chosen Children said anything, but before long they had all discerned a faint glow up ahead, and each became fully alive to the situation.

That it really was a light, rather than the dull gray visibility of the outer world, was evident, though it was too dim and too pale to determine its color. Anubimon was the first to realize what it might mean. The group’s speed had slackened, and at his whispered word they all stopped completely.

“What is it?” Iori asked.

“I don’t know,” Anubimon answered, “but it could be this base’s control room. Sato would have a screen installed.” It occurred to him as strange that in all his wanderings through the monastery he had never come across it. The place’s strange atmosphere must indeed have had him mazed.

“Alright,” Daisuke said under his breath. “He might be in there.”

“Wait,” said Anubimon. He turned to Hikari, who had remained the foremost of the group and was now gazing down the corridor with a set expression. “Is this truly the way?”

She nodded. “It’s important that we go this way,” she said. “There’s something…” Her voice trailed off as she sought for words to explain what that sixth sense told her. It was Anubimon’s turn to nod.

“Then let us press forward. I will take the lead.”

Slowly they approached the glow. All of the children were tense. Hikari wondered if Sato Katsu really was waiting for her in that control room, and stifled a shiver at the thought. Surely he could do nothing to harm her, or anyone, with Anubimon and all the others present, but still she dreaded to face him again, as she might dread the presence of a contagion.

Anubimon was first to cross the threshold, but the Chosen Children pressed close behind him, all intent on seeing what lay within. The room was large and dome-like, the largest room they had yet seen, and the light issued from a large screen that seemed to hang in midair, but every gaze focused instantly on the figure standing before it.

Almost immediately after they made him out, Sato Katsu in turn realized that there were intruders in the room. He looked quickly in the group’s direction, half turning, and for an instant there was an expression on his face none of them had seen before. Only in Hikari did it awake a dim sense of familiarity, but in the tension of the moment she took no time to wonder at it. Though caught off guard, in the next moment Sato had recovered from his surprise, and his face was set once more in the cold mask his victims had come to associate with him.


	121. Revelation

_“Evil wings in ether beating;_   
_Vultures at the spirit eating;_   
_Things unseen forever fleeting_   
_Black against the leering sky._   
_Ghastly shades of bygone gladness,_   
_Clawing fiends of future sadness,_   
_Mingle in a cloud of madness_   
_Ever on the soul to lie.”_   
_\- H. P. Lovecraft, “Despair”_

“You,” Sato said, his eyes on Anubimon. “I should have known. I shall tell the Dark One that your usefulness to us has ended.”

“Yes,” Anubimon said. “It has.”

Sato’s gaze swept the Chosen Children.

“A large group to avoid all guards and surveillance.” His irritation came through in his voice. “Your luck never ceases to amaze me.”

“You’re lucky I don’t—” Daisuke began, but he broke off as Takeru’s voice, its anger more restrained but just as intense, spoke up.

“Hasn’t it ever occurred to you that it isn’t luck, Sato Katsu? Maybe it’s what we’re fighting for that gives us our strength.”

“You haven’t taken your lesson to heart, I see,” Sato replied. “Never mind,” he continued, his voice becoming icy. “By the time you recognize the truth it will be too late. It certainly isn’t your skill that has carried you this far. Much of your previous success can be attributed to the natural defenses of the worlds of light, but I have worn those defenses down, and soon they will fail altogether.”

“We’ve talked long enough,” Ken interjected, speaking more to his companions than to Sato. “We should keep going.”

Sato’s scowl grew darker. He and they both knew that with Anubimon present there was nothing he could do to detain them. His eyes came to rest on Hikari, but her own gaze had broken away from him, and her head was turned towards something on his left.

“There,” she said softly. The other Chosen Children looked in that direction also. Sato, who knew what had drawn their attention, did not. Upon one of the small stone mesas lay the Digivices and D-Terminals. Sato had experienced an odd reluctance to leave the devices behind in his private chamber.

“The D-3s,” Miyako murmured.

“Go on and take them,” Sato said, though it struck him for the first time how much the Digivices had fascinated him. “They won’t do you much good now.”

“Shut up!” Daisuke snapped.

And as he and the others walked over to the table and recovered their belongings, Anubimon, still looking at Sato, softly added, “And don’t be so sure.”

Sato’s eyes narrowed. What did the wretched creature mean by that? An unpleasant suspicion began to grow in his mind. He glanced over to where the children were sorting out their D-Terminals. Whatever Anubimon meant, it was important to detain the Chosen Children as long as possible. The Dark Man could easily deal with them and Anubimon both, but defeating Demon seemed to be taking him a long while. It was too bad there were no Parasimon present. If they had attached one to Anubimon from the beginning this problem might have been avoided.

Across the room, Iori had reclaimed his D-3, and as he turned away from the mesa his eyes met those of Sato. He resisted the urge to look away, and watched the man with a thoughtful expression.

“Still wondering why?” Sato asked in a low voice.

“I am,” Iori admitted.

“I tried to show you why,” Sato said, the hint of a snarl in his tone. “But you’ve all chosen to defer your lesson.”

“It looks like your experiment’s a failure,” Takeru said. By now all of the children were listening to the conversation.

“I just need a little longer,” Sato said. “This last pitiful attempt of yours means nothing. Those little toys can protect you no longer.”

“I’m sick of listening to this,” Miyako said. “Let’s hurry and get out of here.”

“Haven’t you realized by now that there is nowhere to run to?” Sato asked with a sort of incredulous anger. “Is it really so hard for you to grasp? But of course!” he went on, the apparent scorn in his voice holding them in place. Anubimon was concerned by the delay, but as yet said nothing. “You’ve always a place to retreat to, and your Digivices to rely on. The Chosen Ones, impossible to conquer.”

“Sounds like you’re a sore loser,” Daisuke said, his contempt matching that in Sato’s tone. He started to say something else, but some subtle change in Sato’s expression made him stop. They all noticed it – and felt the chill of a sudden irrational fear. The man’s eyes looked almost black. There was a deadly hatred there that paralyzed them.

“You know nothing,” Sato said, his low voice like a hiss. “With all your childish platitudes, your blinded faith in Love, and Friendship, and Purity, and Hope, and _Light._ ” He spat the word. “Oh, your masters thought that this time they’d avoid their past mistakes. They didn’t expect one of those unrectified mistakes to haunt them all these years later. I was forgotten, but I will be remembered now."

Iori was first to find his voice.

"What are you talking about?” he stammered. Some instinct told him that here was something important – perhaps the answer to his repeated questions.

“Of course you wouldn’t know,” Sato answered. “Maybe you!” He stabbed a finger in the direction of Takeru. “Or you.” He pointed at Hikari. “Perhaps you have heard something among all those prophecies that came to your rescue.”

Takeru peered at him doubtfully, his eyes narrow and his lips parted. Hikari watched him also, her attention divided between attempting to puzzle out his words and to place a vague impression that had been stirring at the back of her mind ever since that first glimpse of Sato Katsu as they had entered the room. The two mysteries flowed together strangely in her mind. To her overwrought imagination it seemed somehow that the two were connected. Something of that other personality in her stirred, uneasily, and… she had it.

Prophecies, legends… Her last dream… The boy with dark hair, the boy who had spoken of a battle… But was it really possible? Her eyes widened with a kind of horror.

“You… You were a Chosen Child?”

Sounds of surprise came from the other Chosen Children. Anubimon, who had been about to urge that they continue their flight, froze with his mouth half open. Daisuke, Miyako, Ken, and Iori had no idea what Hikari was talking about, but in Takeru’s mind the pieces clicked together, and he couldn’t keep back a low gasp.

“I am not a child anymore,” Sato said, his black eyes smoldering, his voice low and razor sharp. “I left that life behind after I was betrayed, thrust into the dark and forgotten.”

“What about the rest?” Takeru broke in. “The other Chosen Children that came before us?”

“My dear, dear friends? They served the Light’s purpose and returned to their lives as if nothing had happened. But I did not let them escape punishment. They’re long dead by now. They had nothing close to the strength that has allowed me to survive.”

“You bastard…” Daisuke growled. The blazing of his eyes lent him a dangerous aspect. “You killed your own friends!?”

“No. I gave them over to my Master, and for their defiance of the Darkness they received His judgment. Soon”—He spoke through clenched teeth—“it will be your turn.”

The Chosen Children were too thunderstruck to immediately retort. After their experiences with the generators and in their cells, they had believed nothing more about the extent of Sato Katsu’s evil could shock them, but this… What could possibly have driven the man to betray his closest friends – fellow Chosen Children who must even have stood beside him in battle? It was unthinkable.

“Why?” It was Hikari’s voice that broke the silence. “Why have you done all this? What reason…?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Sato snapped. “What could you possibly know of reality, of failure? What have you ever lost? Even now luck comes to your rescue – escaping your cells, avoiding my search and soldiers.” His voice rose to a yell. His fists clenched and unclenched before him. “Why should you always have another miracle to save you, when your predecessors – when _I_ – was left to die!? It’s not fair!”

There was something horribly child-like in the declaration. The children could only stare, aghast. But as they watched, Sato’s hands returned to his side, and the fury went out of his face. He resumed his usual mask.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “Go on with your ‘escape.’ It will all be over soon.”

He turned away from them and began to walk towards one of the huge room’s several exits.

“Hey, wait!” Ken called.

“If you want to stop me you can have your dog kill me,” Sato said without looking back.

Anubimon watched him go, but made no move to interfere. Instead he turned to the Chosen Children. “We should go,” he began, but suddenly checked himself. He and the children stood still and listened.

All through the confrontation they had been hearing muffled evidence of the continued battle above them between Demon and his opponent, though so far the domed control room had remained undamaged by it. Now, however, a new sound, continuous, had begun to reach them.

***

“I hate to say it,” said the Dark One’s voice as the form of Pharaohmon slid backwards across the roof of the monastery, “but you’re becoming a little tiresome, Demon.” With a swift motion of his arms he extinguished the wave of flame that had been propelling him, and looked at his opponent through the curtain of smoke rising from his body.

“Whereas you have been tiresome from the beginning,” Demon answered.

“I really must be going,” Pharaohmon said. “It was entertaining for a while, but you’ve kept me from my duties long enough.”

“I offered you a chance of escape already,” Demon said. “Your doom is now sealed.” Spheres of bluish energy began to grow in his open hands.

“Oh, I’ll be back if necessary,” Pharaohmon smiled. He clapped his hands together, and numerous small square holes appeared, simultaneously and noiselessly, in the black stone of the monastery roof. Out of the newly made apertures small gray shapes came leaping – small, at least, in comparison to the dueling giants. As the things landed, Demon perceived that they were a species of Digimon he had never previously encountered. At least a hundred of them had gathered, and the glassy lenses of their gasmasks were focused on him. The sight drew one of his slow, derisive laughs from him.

“Are these all the allies you can summon?” he said. “Fool. It will be impossible for them to so much as scratch me.”

“Don’t worry,” the Dark One answered. “I don’t expect them to _scratch._ ”

He thrust his right hand in the group’s direction, bandaged fingers spread wide. The response was immediate and, for Demon, unexpected. The Troopmon burst – exploded like balloons. But their rubbery shells were not empty. Something like blue flames came spiraling out of them and upwards, coiling about Demon where he stood. He prepared to wade through them and continue his assault – he had little to fear from fire attacks.

But when the flames made contact with his body, it was not the hot tingling of fire he felt but a sharp, unfamiliar pain. The blue flames weren’t flames at all, but a power unknown to him. His data was being corroded away! He shot skyward, but the roaring fire followed him like a living thing. He had time for an angry glance downward, which showed him that Pharaohmon had disappeared. Then more pressing matters absorbed him.

***

Anubimon hesitated only a moment. Whatever that rushing sound overhead was, it couldn’t bode well for them. They had to press on.

“Which path do we take?” he asked, addressing Hikari. She looked doubtfully at Sato, then looked about the room.

“There,” she said, pointing to the entrance of a hall running at right angles to that Sato had chosen.

“I will be so glad to get out of this place,” Miyako said. The boys, like Hikari, gave Sato’s retreating back a last glance – Takeru grim, Iori wondering, Ken worried.

“I can’t believe he gets to walk off like that,” Daisuke muttered. His expression remained a kind of incredulous anger.

“We… have to pick our battles,” Takeru said. None of the others detected it, but a fleeting emotion passed across his face – something like anxiety that lent him a younger look. Then he and the others began to follow Hikari into the hallway.

Anubimon held back. A sense of unease had been growing on him, perhaps traceable to that odd roaring like that of wind or flame. He shrugged the feeling off with difficulty and prepared to join the Chosen Children. He would need to be there if they met any of those masked creatures. He took one step forward.

There was a sound like a blast of thunder.

Even before it struck, the Chosen Children seemed to be turning, wide-eyed. Anubimon tried to take another step, but instead fell to one knee. Dazedly he looked down. Only then did he realize that a large hole gaped in his abdomen. From what seemed a long distance he heard Hikari scream: “Anubimon!”

Eyes shining, mouths gaping, the Chosen Children stared at him, and at the figure of the Dark Man that stood some distance behind him, hands splayed.

“So I was not too late after all,” the Dark Man said. He grinned. “It looks like our partnership is at an end, Anubimon.”


	122. Breaking

_“Here let me waltzing pass, in this Ball of the Vortices, Anarchie of the Thunders! Did not the great Corot call it translation in a chariot of flame? But this is gaudier than that! Redder than that! This is a jaunting on the scoriac tempests and reeling bullions of hell! It is baptism in a sun!” – M. P. Shiel, “Vaila”_

The Chosen Children and Anubimon remained motionless, stricken. They didn’t notice, but in the distant shadows Sato Katsu had paused at one of the room’s exits and turned to gaze back at the aftermath of the Dark Man’s interruption. The Dark Man himself dropped his hands and clasped them behind his back, smiling placidly. The momentary silence was broken by Daisuke.

“You…!” He yelled it almost as a roar. The victims of this monster, this devil, had flashed through his head, and this latest outrage – what would soon be the killing of the ally who had helped his friends escape – filled him with an almost irresistible urge to launch himself upon the wearer of that mocking smile. He might have really done it, but a swift motion of Anubimon’s arm checked him.

“I have no regrets now,” Anubimon said. His upraised arm was trembling, but his voice was steady. “I am only sorry that it is not possible to do more.”

“But have you really accomplished anything at all?” the Dark Man asked, his tone thoughtful.

“I must believe so,” Anubimon answered. His uplifted hand pointed, past the Chosen Children and down the corridor. “Go, Chosen Children!”

“But—!” The word leapt to the lips of more than one of them.

“Go!” Anubimon repeated, and in that commanding voice the authority of his divine heritage could be heard. “They are waiting for you.”

Startled, the Chosen Children twisted about to look down the hall. A white light shone in the distance. As they watched, it condensed into a number of rounded shapes. Then the glow faded and the objects were left all but invisible in the darkness.

“Can it…?” Takeru whispered.

“Digitama!” Ken breathed. Though at a distance from the group, Sato heard the exclamation, and bared his teeth in a snarl.

“Go,” Anubimon said. “And thank you, for allowing me to, in a measure, redeem myself.”

Finally they went, though with many a regretful glance thrown back over their shoulders. Anubimon watched for a moment, then rose unsteadily to his feet and turned to face the Dark Man. The latter hadn’t moved.

“I had a feeling you had another little trick up your sleeve,” the Dark Man said. “But I doubt it matters much. At any rate, it looks like I was right about your never leaving this world. The irony of it is rather—”

“I see no irony,” Anubimon interrupted. “When I allowed you to use me, my sentence was passed. It would seem,” he said, glancing at Sato, “that fate is just.”

“Kill him,” Sato said.

The Dark Man smiled slightly, raised his hands, and sent through Anubimon’s center a beam of shining black.

As his body dissolved, Anubimon fell backward, sinking into what seemed like sleep. His eyes were closed, and about his mouth there was the slightest hint of a smile. _Goodbye,_ Chosen Children, he thought. _I have faith in you._

***

For several minutes Demon tried in vain to throw off or extinguish the burning blue gas that seemed determined to consume him. Regardless of his speed or his height above the plateau, it pursued him with mute, dogged persistence. He neither knew nor cared about its true nature, but if the situation continued long he would sustain significant damage.

His fury grew by leaps and bounds. The protracted fight with “Pharaohmon” had whittled away at his patience, and the current painful ordeal had exhausted it. Rents had begun to appear in the fabric of his robes. It was time to end this farce and take what he had come for.

Grasping his robe with one clawed hand, he tore the entire garment from his body in a single motion, scattering the beads of his necklace in the process. His shoes were likewise shredded as his feet appeared, scaly and taloned like his hands. At the same moment, a hole of purple shadow opened in the air beneath him, and, leaving his discarded garments to the devouring fire, he plunged into it. The blue fire, its volume somewhat diminished, rushed in after him.

For a second or two Demon was falling still through the purple interstices of space. With a flap of his mighty wings he shot onward, and the next moment emerged again into the gray twilight of the Dark World. Just behind him the gate through which he had come was closing on the last of the Troopmon’s weaponized essence.

Demon brought himself to a halt and hovered a moment over the monastery. With the robes gone, his figure stood revealed, and it was not a pleasant sight. The rest of the body matched the demon lord’s wings and horns, with thick fur, spikes of bone, and a mouth of pointed fangs. The blue eyes burned as they always had, but their gaze was augmented by what might have been a third eye, perfectly round, set above them. One of the hitherto symmetrical arms had lengthened, and the span of its hand’s claws had nearly doubled.

“It’s time to put an end to this,” Demon said. He raised his hands high above his fearsome head. **“Algol’s Flame!”**

Down he hurled it, a huge and perfect sphere of molten fire, igniting the air around it.

***

The Dark Man had begun to walk towards the exit the Chosen Children had taken, but to the consternation of the watching Sato suddenly stopped and looked up at the ceiling with a low, “Hm?”

“What are you—” Sato began, but the next moment his voice was lost in the noise of a tremendous crash and explosion from directly overhead.

Some distance down the corridor the Chosen Children had picked up the Digitama which seemed most likely to belong to their respective partners – Takeru and Ken recognized theirs immediately – when the cataclysm struck. The mixture of conflicting emotions that had been besetting them – joy at the restoration of their partner Digimon, grief and anger at the death of Anubimon, fear of possible pursuit – was immediately swept away by a flood of surprise and sudden terror.

For a few seconds all was utter confusion. A network of huge cracks had appeared in the roof of the monastery, and stone debris of all sizes rained from the ceiling. Where they were gathered the Chosen Children escaped the worst of it, but still sustained a few minor pains as the rubble showered them. Meanwhile the entire building shook. The very floor seemed to shift, as though its foundation had been shattered. Only by a miracle did the children manage to keep their hold on the precious eggs.

Far behind them the domed control room was breached at last. The big glowing screen went dark as it disintegrated, and massive chunks of masonry came crashing down. Sato Katsu cried out, but his voice was swallowed up in the noise. The ground tilted beneath him – it was not an illusion – and above him the ceiling began to fall in huge fragments…

Through it all, the Dark Man retained his composure, only frowning up at a gigantic hole in the ceiling, where an ominous figure loomed against the gray sky.

“I could sense that you were in there,” Demon roared. “Your power is intriguing, but unless you surrender now I will wipe it from existence.”

“I can’t oblige,” the Dark Man replied. Otherwise motionless, he began to rise into the air. “We’ve made it clear enough where we stand. There’s no reason for either of us to waste any more time.” The shadows that seemed always to cluster about him began to deepen and darken. He continued to rise, and as he did so his pitch black form began once more to change and grow.

All the while the Chosen Children were putting distance between themselves and the two dark gods. It was treacherous going. Incredibly, it seemed that Demon’s attack had shattered not only the monastery but the ground upon which it stood. The building had been cut into a great number of large, irregular sections, some relatively stable, while others sank or rose or slanted bewilderingly. Many of the walls were broken, and the ceiling was in ruins, so that vast portions of the floor lay exposed to the sky.

The group pressed on. Whatever they were feeling in their hearts, they all knew that their lives and perhaps more depended on their getting clear of the monastery, and quickly. The Digitama they shielded from damage as best they could, but it was fortunate that the shells were naturally tough. Often one of the children would stumble, tripping over rubble, losing their balance, or succumbing to weakness. They were at their limit – alone, each of them could never have made it, but when one of them sank to the unsteady ground there was always a hand to help them get back up, and a voice to urge them on.

Meanwhile, an enormous shape of darkness faced Demon in the sky. Vast wings spread out from a nightmare body like that of a centaur, with four stout legs and two arms bearing long triple pincers. A horned head rose to surmount the figure. From the blackness colors and features began to emerge. The mouth in the gray, hairless head grinned with pointed teeth, but worse was the horribly human second mouth set into the hairy body just above the monster’s forelegs. It was also grinning.

**“Gulfmon!”**

“Finally you look like a worthy opponent,” Demon said. His fangs set into something between a snarl and a grin.

“Well, it is not every day one sees Demon’s true form,” the other replied. Except for its great volume, his voice was the same as ever. “I felt obliged to change into something more formal.”

“Ha!” Demon’s laugh was short and harsh. “Die!”

With a sweep of his enormous left hand he hurled a sphere of blazing fire at his enemy. Gulfmon’s pincer hands came up in a defensive position, and flame scattered in all directions, leaving parts of the Dark One’s huge body burning. Immediately Demon summoned another flaming projectile. This one the Dark One did not attempt to block. Instead, Gulfmon’s nether mouth gaped wide, and from the pitch black hole issued screams in a thousand voices, like the shrieking of the damned. The power of the sound was such that it sent visible waves through the air, and in the onslaught the ball of fire slowed and began to shrink, smothered.

The sound died away as Demon’s attack vanished. The voices within the Maw began to laugh. With a roar, Demon threw himself upon the Dark One, and raised clenched fists above his head. Glowing blue with power, the fists came down with the force of a meteor.

The impact was like a detonation. The diameter of the resulting shockwave rivaled that of the monastery. Gulfmon plummeted. He landed on his four feet, sending rubble flying in all directions. In the meantime Demon had rebounded, and now stood in the air facing his opponent with wings and arms outspread in menace, glowing blue and encircled by wisps of flame. But before he could launch another attack the Dark One spoke.

**“Black Requiem!”**

Once again Gulfmon’s lower maw opened, and a new voice emerged, musical, deep and solemn. With it came a massive orb of purple energy aimed up at Demon. His attempt to dodge the huge attack ended in failure when it exploded in the air. For a moment the gray sky over the plateau became a smoky purple. Large chunks of the ruined monastery disintegrated into data. Gulfmon leapt into the air, hovering at the height where its eyes were on a level with Demon’s three orbs of blazing blue.

Below them much of the monastery and even the solid ground beneath it had vanished. Where the center of the building had been there was mostly just empty space, though a few large islands of rubble-strewn ground still remained suspended in midair. And in the abyss, slowly rotating, a gigantic whirlpool of darkness could now be seen.

Demon did not notice. His body was battered but not heavily damaged, and his gaze was fixed on the enemy with a deadly intensity.


	123. The Dark Maelstrom

_“But little time will be left me to ponder upon my destiny – the circles rapidly grow small – we are plunging madly within the grasp of the whirlpool…” – Edgar Allan Poe, “MS. Found in a Bottle”_

By a miracle the Chosen Children had managed to get clear of the epicenter of the titanic battle behind them. By now it was a little hard to tell where the monastery’s outer edge ended and the tortuous natural rock of the plateau began, but they had been quick enough to avoid the total destruction of the monastery’s center.

They had come to a relatively well-sheltered place, and seemed to be out of immediate danger, so they paused almost of one accord to catch their breath. Each examined his or her Digitama with care, and was relieved at finding no visible signs of damage.

“We should try to hatch them,” Takeru said, looking around at the other children.

“How do we do that?” Miyako asked. “If I could see Hawkmon again…”

“You rub them,” Hikari said. She smiled, but the smile quickly faded. “I wonder if Anubimon will be reborn someday,” she murmured. The others looked solemn, but no one said anything. They began to rub their eggs. When after a few seconds nothing had happened, they began to feel apprehensive.

“Hey, how long is it supposed to take?” Daisuke asked.

“The last time, Wormmon hatched as soon as I touched the egg,” Ken said uneasily. “But back then there was a light from my Crest…”

“Sometimes it can take a while,” Takeru said. “Poyomon didn’t hatch until the next day.”

“Armadimon…” Iori said, looking down at the spotted yellow egg in his hands.

“I’m not gonna wait that long,” Daisuke said. In a low voice he addressed the blue egg he held. “Hey, V-mon… I need you. I want to see you again. It’s been terrible without you. Please… Please hatch.”

“Please hatch, Hawkmon,” Miyako whispered to the white and red egg in her arms.

“Wormmon…”

“…Patamon…”

“Tailmon…” Hikari said, hugging her egg where she knelt.

_That’s… Daisuke!_

_Miyako-san!_   
_Iori!_   
_Takeru!_   
_Hikari!_   
_Ken-chan…!_

The eggs began to glow. Soon a soft, faint light pervaded the grotto in which the Chosen Children were encamped. For a moment it looked almost pleasant. Then came six popping sounds one right after another, and the glow faded out, to be replaced with many little exclamations of relief, gratitude, and love.

For the first time Hikari held her partner’s original form, a downy YukimiBotamon. Meanwhile, Takeru for the moment seemed half reduced to the little boy who had first greeted Poyomon on the shore of File Island. Miyako’s tears flowed as she squeezed Pururumon a little too tightly, and Chicomon, Tsubumon, and Leafmon greeted their partners warmly.

For just a few seconds the six children felt at peace. Then, slowly, the awareness of their situation and surroundings began to intrude on their happiness.

“It’s cold,” Tsubumon said, shivering.

“This is that other world!” Poyomon exclaimed.

“Are you alright, Miyako-san? What happened?”

“Well…” said Miyako, “…it’s…”

“Daisuke!” Chicomon squeaked, “What about the enemy?”

None of the children answered right away. They all turned to look back the way they had come, and doubt was written again upon their faces.

***

For a long while Demon and the One in the form of Gulfmon gazed at each other, saying nothing. Each appeared to gauge the other. Two such opponents had perhaps never clashed before – each a Titan of darkness, each a god of evil whose plot for untold destruction now impeded the other’s.

“It’s a shame that we couldn’t have met under different circumstances, Demon,” said the Dark Man’s voice.

“Still talking?” said Demon. “I thought that we were done wasting time.”

“It’s only occurred to me that there’s really no need to rush…” the Dark One began, but Demon was already in motion. The crimson claws on his oversized left hand came slashing down, Gulfmon parrying the blow with his long, scalpel-like digits. Gulfmon’s other hand reached for Demon, but was caught and held by its thick wrist. “You have the same problem as another friend of mine,” the Dark One continued, his narrow green eyes meeting his enemy’s gaze. “Your focus is too narrow, your actions too single-minded.”

Demon didn’t deign to reply. His right hand’s grip on Gulfmon’s wrist tightened. The claws punched through the hard gray skin, cracking it. Demon gave a savage wrench sideways, and Gulfmon’s entire hand and forearm was ripped off and cast aside. In response, Gulfmon thrust his remaining hand forward, forcing Demon away. The lips of the Maw sprang open, the voices within shrieked, buffeting Demon with waves of crushing sound and causing him to lose his grip.

“No amount of screaming will help you,” he snarled. **“Flame Inferno!”** From his mouth, from both hands, flames came pouring in an unceasing torrent. The two attacks warred with each other, the wailing of fresh voices welling up to meet the relentless fire. The air around their point of contact sparked and rippled with the enormous energy produced. Finally the infernal screams and all lesser sounds were drowned out by another explosive concussion.

Both combatants were hurled backwards by the blast. Demon spread his wings wide and slowed himself to a halt. His body was showing signs of wear, but he had the satisfaction of seeing that Gulfmon had not come out unscathed either. And, of course, the Dark One’s entire left hand was missing.

Demon had never really entertained any doubts that he would win the battle eventually, and the recent turn of events had only confirmed him in this. Still, he would prefer to end the fight quickly. In spite of the fact that most of the monastery had been obliterated, he thought that he could still sense the near presence of the Dark Seed he had come for. The Chosen Children – or at least Ichijouji Ken – were still alive. Their chance of escaping him was slim, but it wouldn’t pay to waste any more time on his current opponent than necessary. A pity that Demon had not had time to secure the Dark Seed before this battle. Once he had obtained it and its copies in the human world, not even enemies such as this being would be a match for him.

“This is the end,” Demon muttered. He raised his hands above his head. Between them a ball of flame appeared and began to grow. So densely packed were the energies within it that it became almost a solid thing, glowing orange and red, but with a darkness at its core. The sphere continued to grow, looking like a new sun for this sunless world.

“It is the end indeed!” shouted the Dark One. With both mouths grinning, Gulfmon’s enormous body charged forward, its hooves falling like hammers on the empty air.

**“Algol’s Flame!”** Demon roared. He hurled the dark star full into the face of his onrushing enemy. The next moment the sky became a hell of rolling fire.

Up from the midst of this conflagration rose the massive form of Gulfmon, wings flaming, burning away to nothing, forelegs pawing madly before coming down atop Demon. Then the two of them were dropping out of the sky like a meteor. Clammy darkness engulfed them as they plummeted into the midst of that strange, enormous whirlpool under the earth.

Demon’s hands grappled with the thick forelegs whose hoof-like claws pinned his shoulders. He gave no thought to his surroundings; all of his focus was bent upon the meddling being he fought. To his great satisfaction he felt Gulfmon’s flesh begin to give way under his crushing grip.

The next moment, however, he realized that something was wrong. That flesh didn’t feel right. It flowed like liquid between his fingers. At the same time, Gulfmon’s entire body began to change. It blackened, began to lose its shape, seemed almost to shrink and melt away. Now nothing remained in Demon’s grasp, and instead of his enemy he saw only an inky something retreating up towards the open sky.

Fangs clenched in rage, Demon prepared to follow it… but found that he could not. Baffled, he turned his attention to the space around him. A darkness like water revolved slowly around him, but it was not water, though cold and giving the impression of wetness. It came to him that it must be a materialized form of negative energy. He had heard of cases where such a substance had been collected for one evil purpose or another, but the sheer volume gathered here seemed unbelievable. Where had it all come from?

But that didn’t matter. What mattered was the effect this unnatural whirlpool was having on him. Demon realized that for the third time since arriving at the plateau something was beginning to undermine his data on a foundational level. The principle resembled that behind Pharoahmon’s attack and the burning essence of the Troopmon, but infinitely stronger. Already parts of him were beginning to fade away, absorbed into this massive repository of Dark power.

Growling deep in his throat, he wrenched himself into a half upright posture. Fires erupted about him, but were immediately quenched by the murky atmosphere. His gradual assimilation continued. Somehow, the fact that it was not a painful process enraged him almost as much as the process itself. Was this how he would finally be defeated – a simple conversion from one form of darkness to another?

He flapped his wings, but the right had nearly disappeared by now. Much of his overgrown left hand had also vanished – the extremities seemed to be targeted first. He could twitch and struggle, and roar in inarticulate rage, but was gradually sinking all the while. He sensed something, a presence, as if unseen red eyes were burning into him from the darkness.

Thoughts of his past passed through his brain – his cataclysmic defeat by the forces of light, his never-ending quest for vengeance and ultimate power. “It will take more than the likes of you to destroy me, Dagomon,” he snarled aloud. _Yes,_ he thought to himself. _Surely… surely this is not the end. Though this body vanishes, my wrath, my eternal hatred… will never die!_

The rate of disintegration was accelerating. Demon roared. In that roar resounded all his lifetime of burning anger, and all his defiance against the powers now taking him and against the forces of good and light whose existence he despised. The sound reached all the way up to the Dark Man where he stood in midair above the dark whirlpool, who smiled as he heard it die away.

“That should be more than enough negative energy,” he said to himself. He turned his gaze downward. “Better luck to your other incarnations, O Great Demon Lord.”

And he laughed loud and long.

***

Since receiving word from Koshiro of what had taken place that night in the human world, Gennai had been poring over the files in his innumerable cabinets and the books in his bookcases, searching for anything that might have a bearing on the current situation. There was little chance of coming across any clue he had failed to find before, but it was better than doing nothing. Ilya was nearby in the dining room, accessing various computer systems in the human world in a tedious search for clues to the missing Chosen Children’s whereabouts. The other Agents had duties of their own to perform.

“Gennai.”

Gennai turned to see a circular mechanism fade into view in the center of the study’s floor. Up from its center streamed a beam of multihued light, in which a hologram of Eucaly appeared. He had been dispatched to the Village of Beginnings to scout out the situation there.

“Anything to report?” Gennai asked.

“Not much,” Eucaly said, though his face looked a little grim. “The Cyclomon continue to guard the village. They’ve formed a tight perimeter, so it would be difficult for anyone to get in or out, but not impossible.”

“Have they done any damage to the village or its inhabitants?”

“It is hard to say from outside, but I haven’t heard much commotion.”

Gennai nodded. “We can take it as a good sign, I hope. Please continue your—” He broke off as Eucaly’s image wavered.

Eucaly himself frowned.

“There seems to be interference of some kind,” he said, his voice almost fading out at several points in the sentence.

“Keep the line open if you can,” Gennai said.

“I will,” Eucaly said. He continued to flicker every now and again. “It doesn’t seem to be very strong. Not as if we were being jammed.”

Gennai stepped into the dining room, where Ilya sat before the large screen with a wireless keyboard across his knees.

“Is something wrong?” Ilya asked, turning his head from the screen for a moment.

“I don’t know. Have you been experiencing any difficulties here?”

“The connection does seem slow,” Ilya said. “I’ve rarely seen it happen with our system before. The problem seems to lie in the Real World.”

Gennai looked thoughtful, and not quite at ease. He began to say something, but stopped when the house began to shake and tremble. Both Agents heard a low rumbling sound, and thought they could detect a sound of disturbance in the surface of the lake overhead.

“Again so soon?” Ilya wondered.

“The earthquakes are becoming more frequent,” Gennai said. “Ah, I don’t like this. I hate to wake the Chosen Children, but I get the feeling that there will be trouble soon. For now we’ll wait. I’ll alert the other Agents to stand by.”

He walked back into the study. Eucaly had managed to keep the line open, but noted that the slight interference continued.

“Be ready to act at a moment’s notice,” Gennai told him. “Now then, I must contact the others.”


	124. On the Plateau

_“They walk unseen and foul in lonely places where the Words have been spoken and the Rites howled through at their Seasons. The wind gibbers with Their voices, and the earth mutters with Their consciousness. They bend the forest and crush the city, yet may not forest or city behold the hand that smites… As a foulness shall ye know Them. Their hand is at your throats, yet ye see Them not; and Their habitation is even one with your guarded threshold.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Dunwich Horror”_

Darkness. All was darkness and cold and silence.

Only after a long interval did some vague suggestion of motion become manifest, like the restlessness of an unquiet sea. Sato Katsu dreamed, and for the first time in a long time the dream was his own.

As he became conscious of the fact that he was dreaming, he became conscious also of something approaching – a presence. Sato’s soul stirred feebly.

_I played my part,_ he thought to himself. _What could have gone wrong? All the years I’ve waited…_ The sensation of that Other was growing stronger. Gradually its presence became more substantial, more insistent. _Yes,_ Sato told it, _I know I should, and yet… and yet maybe I shouldn’t. Something went wrong, and maybe I should rest. I… I’m so tired… I – I don’t want to dream anymore._

From out of the lightless deep he heard a churning, bubbling commotion, and from the interior of his mind a harsh hiss. Sato’s indecision was replaced by a sudden sense of purpose, not unmixed with terror. _My faith is unshaken,_ he declared to the darkness. _Tell me what I must do._

The next moment he was awake. His first waking sensation was of pain, and taking in the ruin about him he remembered why that should be. The monastery’s ceiling had collapsed, and the falling rubble, some pieces large enough to have crushed him to death, had cut and battered him. The chief pain was in his head, and putting a hand to it he could feel the dried blood from the injury that had knocked him unconscious.

He now stood upon a section of the stone floor that had fallen outward from the monastery’s center and come to a stop when it ground into the equally shattered but still stable perimeter of the abyss in which the monstrous whirlpool revolved.

As he took in these details, a new sensation – different from the pain but just as unpleasant – began to seep into his head. He recognized it, and stood still, listening. As he waited, a black object came sliding out of the tangle of fallen stone, skittered across the uneven floor and came to a stop at his feet. Stooping to examine it, he recognized the handgun which had been lying forgotten under his cot since his arrival in this world.

He picked it up, and it was as he did so that the icy sensation in his mind began to take on a new form. Seeming to ascend from an unfathomable abyss within him came a voice that was not a voice. It spoke no language, but after his years spent in the World of Darkness he could comprehend it well.

_You will bring them to me,_ it said. _Yagami, Ichijouji, and all the rest. And if you cannot bring them, you will kill them._

Sato straightened. There was no need to ask what direction to begin his pursuit in. At this moment, some fraction of the omniscience of his god’s incredible intellect was his. He set out immediately.

He kept to a brisk pace – treading on piles of rubble, climbing ruined walls, jumping crevices – in spite of the pain of his numerous injuries. Besides the head wound that had knocked him unconscious, he had bled from several lesser cuts, and was bruised all over. It was only by a miracle that he had lived at all. He didn’t care. Something greater than pain drove him. His devotion to the evil path he had clung to for so long, his redoubled hatred of the Chosen Children and the Light they represented, both drove him. This was the same relentless forward motion that had consumed him for years, each breath he took a curse against the worlds and everything in them.

He knew, whether by instinct or through his brief mental connection with the High Priest, that he no longer need concern himself with Demon. Certainly there was no sign of the demon lord, nor indeed a sign of any living thing in that grotesque wasteland but Sato Katsu himself. He was free to devote every last ounce of his strength to the pursuit of the Chosen Children. _Damn them!_ he thought, baring his teeth as he stalked onwards, a savage and bloodied figure.

Chance had come to their aid once more, and the hour of Sato’s triumph had been delayed yet again. It was time for this to end. The powers of Darkness might be eternal, and content to wait for the inevitable, but Sato was tired of waiting and striving. Had he not followed his orders? Had he not fulfilled the destiny plotted for him since all light had gone out of him? Yet here was he, chiefest of the Master’s agents, commander of inhumanly powerful beings beyond count, limping after his enemies, clutching a pistol like a common criminal. The irony was almost funny. In fact, as the minutes wore on, and such thoughts continued to dog him, he began to suspect that it was, in fact, horrifically funny.

But Sato Katsu hadn’t laughed in a very long time, and he refrained from doing so now. He was afraid it might sound like the Dark Man’s laughter.

He squeezed his eyes shut, shook his head. Had the loss of blood left him lightheaded? He wondered how much farther ahead of him his quarry had gotten while he was unconscious. It should not be long now before he had them in sight. Possibly he might have been able to see them now were it not for Leng’s strange landscape, the deceptive complexity of which concealed much.

Another minute or two passed before his persistence was rewarded. From some distance ahead there drifted to him on the lifeless air the sound of voices. His eyes narrowed, and his breath hissed between his clenched teeth as he pressed on.

***

“What do we do now?” Takeru asked, resisting the urge to massage his hurt leg. “There doesn’t seem to be any end to this place.” It was a rhetorical question. Their only goal had been to distance themselves from what remained of the monastery and their enemies. They knew what they were running from, but had no idea what they could run to.

They had paused once again, this time after climbing over a ridge of rock to find themselves at the edge of a craggy valley cut into the plateau. There was a relatively flat space large enough for them to stand on, but if they wanted to progress farther in the same direction they would have some hiking to do that their weakened constitutions would make difficult.

“I just want to get out of this world altogether,” Miyako groaned. “I want to see the sun again…”

“Miyako-san and the others have been in this world before, haven’t they?” Iori asked. “How did everyone get out before?”

“I’m trying to think…” Ken said. “The last time we entered the Dark World because of BlackWarGreymon’s distortion, right?”

“Back when Tailmon and I evolved to Sylphimon for the first time,” Pururumon piped up.

“That’s right,” Ken said, sounding thoughtful. “Once the Blossomon was defeated the distortion disappeared and we were back in the Digital World. But why?”

Takeru’s face was scrunched up with an effort of recollection. “Back in Vamdemon’s castle,” he said, “there were distortions of space that AtlurKabuterimon fixed with his Horn Buster attack. But if that’s all it took, then why…”

“This might be different,” YukimiBotamon said. “We’re not in a distorted space this time.”

Her partner’s voice roused Hikari from her own meditations. Thinking back to the Blossomon incident, it had occurred to her that maybe they’d escaped not so much through their actions as through their thoughts. This world brought fears and anxieties to life. Could the appearance of Sylphimon and the defeat of the enemy have cleared away their negative emotions and allowed them to break free of the Dark Ocean’s grasp?

“There was also the first time…” Takeru said. Hikari met his gaze, and saw the hesitation there. She knew the question he wanted to ask, but she had no answer for it. The light from the sky that had come to their aid upon the Dark Tower’s destruction was as much a mystery to her as it was to him.

The Light… Her Crest… Just what was it that connected her to the life-giving force of the Digital World? She suddenly recalled to mind the light that had just guided them safe through the labyrinth. She could still sense some slight vestige of that other personality within her. If only she could question it somehow, open direct communication with it. Perhaps at this very moment she unknowingly held the power to free herself and her friends from this horrible world! But concentrate as she might, there seemed no way to tap into that buried consciousness.

Seated nearby, Daisuke turned his head from her and looked down at his partner.

“You still can’t evolve, Chicomon?”

“Sorry, Daisuke. I guess Ken was right about evolution not working right in this world.”

Daisuke sighed. “I hope someone figures a way out of here soon,” he said. “If you and the others can’t evolve we’ll never be able to destroy that guy who killed Nat-chan.”

“Daisuke, you met Nat-chan again?”

“Yeah,” he said, hanging his head. “If it wasn’t for me, she might still be alive.”

Chicomon’s expression turned sad. “Maybe she’ll be reborn?” he suggested.

“Argh, I hope so,” Daisuke said. He raised his head, and a fierce expression came into his eyes. “Still, we have to beat that guy no matter what it takes,” he said softly.

The next moment he and the others were startled to hear the urgent voice of Leafmon.

“Ken-chan, somebody’s coming!”

The next moment Tsubumon began to bounce excitedly. “There is! Over there, dagyaa!”

Even as he said it, all eyes were drawn back the way the group had come, slightly uphill, as a moving object came into view against the ashen sky. Exclamations of surprise escaped the Chosen Children.

“You!” Takeru said.

Sato Katsu stopped, looking down at them. He made a stark and terrible figure, with his disheveled appearance, coldly wild eyes, and gun in hand. For a while there was silence, Sato looking down and the Chosen Children and tiny Digimon staring back at him. Sato brought his breathing under control before speaking.

“This is the end of your escape attempt, Chosen Children.”

“Bastard,” Daisuke growled. “What makes you say that?”

“What is the point, Sato Katsu?” Ken asked. He tried to talk reasonably, but couldn’t quite keep all anger or fear out of his voice. “Your base is destroyed. There’s nowhere left for you to take us to.”

“Fortunately,” Sato answered, “there is no longer any need for that. Can’t you feel it? The change in the air? Demon’s power has been absorbed. My goal has already been achieved. Ia!”

“His goal?” Iori whispered.

“And what is your goal?” Takeru asked angrily. “What’s all of that stuff you were gathering for? What could be the point of causing all that pain, and even sacrificing your friends? Give us a straight answer for once!”

“Could it be,” Hikari said, “that you’re trying to release…” She hesitated a moment before saying the dreaded name. “…Dagomon from this world?”

“You think that’s all this is about?” Sato snapped. “You think it’s for something that simple that we have waited so long? How stupid. My god has been free to enter the Digital World for some time now. What else could have wiped out Neptunemon’s seal, you little idiot? Our aim has never been merely to breach the walls between the worlds of light and darkness! Our aim… has been to erase them entirely.”


	125. Collisions

_“There was a crack in [his] head and a little bit of the Dark World came through and pressed him to death.” – Rudyard Kipling, “The Phantom Rickshaw”_

The Chosen Children reacted to Sato’s declaration with expressions of apprehensive puzzlement.

“‘Erase the walls between worlds’…?” Ken repeated.

“What do you mean?” Daisuke asked.

“You may see before long,” Sato replied. “Soon, there will be no distinction between worlds. The dark power will be free to spread onward forever, and my lord’s invasion of all lands will begin.”

“You mean…” said Miyako, suddenly reminded of that day in the computer room, when she and the others had watched a screen of swirling colors fade to black, “…all the worlds will combine?”

“Exactly,” Sato answered. “Not merely a World of Darkness, but an entire Universe of Darkness.”

“We won’t let that happen!” said Daisuke.

“You don’t have a choice, idiot. It was always inevitable. Darkness is the natural state of existence. Don’t you know that darkness returns to darkness? Light may flash forth for a moment, but it is destined to be extinguished.”

Since Sato’s appearance Takeru had been listening to the conversation with growing anger. His fists clenched spasmodically, and by now his entire body was shaking with barely constrained rage.

“You…” he said, sounding as if he were choking on the word. “You haven’t explained anything. I’ll never understand – I don’t want to understand! To be a willing tool of darkness and evil… You really are unforgivable.”

“I’ve never asked for your forgiveness,” came Sato’s icy reply. “But you are right. You will never understand, because you are going to die here.” He began to raise the pistol in his right hand. “Are you ready, Takaishi-san?”

There were several gasps and exclamations from all sides, and Takeru, teeth still clenched in anger, turned pale as he found himself looking at the little black circle of the gun muzzle. The next moment Poyomon shot up from the ground like a released spring. At the height of the jump he spat something in Sato’s direction, and a second later a little splat could be heard in the silence as the bubble burst on Sato’s fingers.

Slowly, Sato let his arm fall a few inches.

“Acidic bubbles…” he muttered. “How low we both have sunk, Chosen Ones… And yet that is only fitting.” He might have felt again the urge to laugh, but it was wholly swept aside by a wave of scorn. “Acidic bubbles. Why should something like that mean anything to me after all the years of horror and pain? Only the last feeble insult the dying light can offer.

“I have wanted for some time now,” he continued after a pause, “to see what a bullet might do to a Digimon.” He took aim again, but not at Takeru. “It’s a pity that I have only Baby-level test subjects available.”

“No!” Heedless of injury, Takeru threw himself to the ground to shield his partner with his body.

“Takeru!”  
“Takeru-san!”

Several of the Chosen Children and Digimon made as if to intervene, but stopped at the sound of Sato’s voice and the flash of his lightless eyes as his gaze swept over them.

“Foolish,” Sato said. He seemed to be speaking not merely to Takeru but to the entire group before him. “You would throw your life away for a creature that has died for you already, just as it was programmed to do, even though both of you must be killed in the end? Your stupidity can still amaze me.”

As he resisted Poyomon’s struggles to get free, Takeru’s eyes were turned upwards to meet Sato’s gaze as it fixed itself upon him. He said nothing, but his expression spoke for him. The defiance born of hope still burned there.

“As you wish,” Sato said.

“Wait!”

Hikari’s voice, raised in desperation, was startling in the relative quiet. Sato’s arm didn’t waver, but he turned his head slightly to look at her. Several of the other children, managing to tear their eyes away from Takeru and the weapon poised to end his life, looked at her as well.

For several minutes now, as she watched unfold before her the events that threatened to cost her and her friends everything, her mind had been racing. She had quickly weighed every possibility she could think of, and could see only one option. She had chosen this option once before, four years ago, and it seemed even more horrifying now than it had then. But there was never else to be done.

“If I…” she said, in a voice by some miracle kept perfectly steady, “…surrendered myself to Dagomon and…the others, would you leave my friends alone?”

For her, time seemed to slow to a crawl as she spoke the words. She had scarcely finished before multiple voices – her partner’s, Daisuke’s, and others – raised themselves in protest. She heard them indistinctly as she saw that unforgotten expression of religious mania transfigure Sato’s dead eyes.

Yet while she noted these external details, they seemed oddly distant. She felt faint, almost, and didn’t know why. It was not, she felt, the horror of the proposal she had just made overcoming her, but something only tangentially related to it. Then perfect clarity returned. Only now she was no longer one but two. By a terrific effort, that other side of her had awakened once more, and Sato Katsu threw up his left hand to shield his eyes from its radiance.

Her friends, also, seemed stunned by the light’s sudden reappearance and stronger brilliance. But a little voice – Chicomon’s – squeaked out, “Now’s our chance!” Immediately he was spitting as many bubbles as he could, as fast as he could.

The other partner Digimon quickly joined in. Acid-tinged bubbles streamed from mouth, beak, and pacifier, so that Sato, caught off guard, was soon nearly cloaked in a flurry of foam. He cried out not only in irritation but in actual pain, and staggered backwards, his gun clattering as it dropped to the stone.

Takeru started back from the weapon as it came to rest directly in front of him, and Poyomon was finally able to squeeze out of his protective grip. Hesitant, Takeru’s hand reached for the gun. He had a vague idea of preventing Sato from recovering it. He touched it, tentatively curled his fingers about the grip, and shivered as the conviction came over him that he had held this gun once before, in a dream.

“That’s…” Sato said between gritted teeth. He slightly lowered his shaking hand to peer at the shining being opposite him. The girl’s expression had changed to one out of place on Hikari’s features, both grim and stern, an expression of authority. The other Chosen Children were also staring at her in amazement, but their attention snapped back to Sato Katsu as he screamed out in a voice thick with hatred. 

_“It’s you!”_ His right hand flew to what must have been a pocket hidden among his drab clothing, and reemerged holding something – the strangely formed ritual knife. Then he was dashing forward with reckless speed over the uneven rock. _“HIKARI!”_ The arm that held the knife was drawn back, ready to slash.

The others watched in horror, many rooted to the spot, unable to react in time to intervene, as Hikari stood motionless and Sato quickly closed the distance between her and himself. Several of the Digimon again spat their bubbles, but the madman charged through the barrage without flinching.

As for Takeru, he knew that, unless he could do something, mere moments remained before that knife tore into Hikari-chan’s body, ending the life of his treasured friend. And as that realization hit him, he knew, with a final and terrible certainty, what he had to do. The gun was as heavy as he remembered it, but with both hands he managed to lift it. He pointed it in Sato’s direction. His finger found the trigger.

It was at that moment that Daisuke collided with Hikari. He had essentially tackled her at the waist. From where he crouched Takeru saw her expression change to one of surprise, saw her and Daisuke fall to the ground together, and for a second he hesitated. He also saw, in a more unconscious way, YukimiBotamon pop up into the air before the onrushing Sato. The little Digimon’s cheeks were puffed up at first, then she began to blow. Instead of bubbles, a spray of what looked like glitter emerged from the tiny mouth – YukimiBotamon’s Diamond Dust attack.

Half blinded by the stream of icy crystals, Sato slashed wildly with the knife. He felt just the slightest hint of resistance – the slightest indication that the knife had cut through something. A small, soft, cool object bounced off his shoulder, and his feet caught on a body stretched in his path. He stumbled, began to turn, lost his balance… and those watching saw him fall. Twisting, reaching, crying out, he staggered backward off the canyon edge, dropped, and vanished.

With trembling hands, Takeru laid the handgun on the ground.

Daisuke slowly raised himself from where he had fallen atop the motionless Hikari, too dazed by the fall to feel embarrassment at the intimate contact. Something cold, like snow, was falling softly on his legs – the Diamond Dust, drifting to earth. Rising to his knees, Daisuke looked down at Hikari. Was she hurt? She had ceased to glow, and her eyes were shut.

“Hikari-chan?” he whispered.

From behind him came other voices.

“Motomiya!”

“Is Hikari-chan…?”

“Daisuke, are you all right?”

“Hikari-chan,” Daisuke repeated. He was reaching out for her when at last she stirred. Her eyes opened. She didn’t seem to know where she was.

“Daisuke…kun…”

Wincing with pain, she partly raised herself from the ground. The impact had hurt her, but the knife hadn’t touched her. Only one of her long gloves had been sliced open at the top.

“Hikari!” squeaked a little voice. “Thank goodness…”

YukimiBotamon had been knocked aside after colliding with Sato Katsu, but had not been harmed. Hikari gave her a reassuring smile before accepting Daisuke’s hand. He helped her to her feet, and she looked around at the others.

“What happened?” she asked. “Where is…?”

“Ah!” Ken gasped. “Sato Katsu. He…” His voice trailed off as he looked at the point on the cliff where Sato had disappeared. Daisuke was the first to step to the edge and look down into the rocky valley beyond. He gave an exclamation, and most of the other Chosen Children and their partners quickly joined him at the ledge.

Takeru alone hadn’t moved, remaining crouched in place. Poyomon gazed up at him with a doubtful, worried expression.

Those on the cliff’s edge were looking down into the spacious, irregular depression below, over five meters deep at its lowest point. There lay Sato. He didn’t move. It appeared that the knife was no longer in his hand, but it couldn’t be picked out among the dark stone of the valley floor. For a while the group only stared, not speaking. Then Hikari turned away, and began looking for a place where they could safely climb down.

***

Several times now Sato Katsu had opened his eyes only to have the lids irresistibly fall again. He couldn’t see much regardless. His vision was blurry and uncertain, and the only thing discernable was the gray and empty sky. He couldn’t quite remember where he was, but he got the impression that something had badly hurt him. Due to the chill numbness that had come over his body, he felt little pain, but he could sense a great mass of it held back like a tidal wave about to break.

He lay still a little longer, eyes closed. He concentrated on breathing. The process seemed more difficult than it should be. Yet everything seemed far removed from him, unreal. Could he be dreaming? Perhaps he was dead. That must be it. He was dead, or dying.

Then he heard something – footsteps approaching – and forcing his eyes open with an effort he saw silhouetted against the gray four dark, blurred ghosts bending over him. He felt called upon to explain, to justify himself. He found he could barely whisper.

_“You… you left… me…”_

A fifth shadow entered his vision. Seeing it, Sato awoke with a jolt of sudden terror. He winced with pain, but was almost relieved to see that he had been mistaken. It was only the Chosen Children… the current Chosen Children, Motomiya and the rest. They were looking down at him with expressions in which concern and disgust were mingled, and several started a little when they saw him twitch.

Sato closed his eyes again and swallowed. This time they could make out what he said when he spoke.

“Too late, Chosen Children… Too late to stop what I’ve begun…”

To their surprise, they saw a hint of wetness at the corners of his shut eyes as he lay making little movements of his head, still repeating, “Too late.”

Somewhere beyond the jagged horizon, their ears could just faintly detect a low, continuous rumbling, like the rolling of distant thunder.


	126. The Merge

_“And there are strange voices in the wind, and alien roarings upon the sea; and the walls quiver like a thin veil in the black breath of remote abysses.” – Clark Ashton Smith, “The Double Shadow”_

The Chosen Children looked at each other. They were at a total loss. Takeru, with Poyomon bouncing at his side, had only just now finished making his way slowly down to join them. He was pale, with a look in his eyes that bordered on haunted. He said nothing to his friends, but periodically his gaze was drawn, like theirs, to the nearly motionless form of Sato Katsu. The man’s eyes remained closed, and his breathing was both shallow and audibly labored.

Sato was by now nearly lost to the world. The pain engendered by his fall and the reopening of his previous wounds had largely begun to subside, replaced by a numbness not only of body, but of mind and soul as well. He supposed he was dying, and he didn’t care. The last sleep would come to him soon. Had he been certain it would be a sleep free of dreams, he would have welcomed it.

Standing about him, the Chosen Children knew that they were witnessing the closing of a tragedy. Iori believed that nothing could justify Sato’s crimes, and yet he realized instinctively the truth of Sato’s assertion, that there was some sort of logic hidden in Sato’s life that Iori could not grasp. Thankfully, the courses of their lives had been too vastly different.

Takeru did not make eye contact with his friends. For the most part his gaze remained on the ground. He wondered if any of the others had seen what had almost happened back up on the cliff. Did they realize that the weapon had been in his hand, that if it weren’t for Daisuke’s rash action he would have pulled the trigger, and probably taken a human life? True, Takeru could think of no human being that deserved death as Sato Katsu deserved it, but the decision to fire had come so easily that it frightened him.

He remembered now the last words he had spoken to Sato in his cell. “I’ll kill you,” he had said, and he had meant it. Sato Katsu was an unrepentant agent of the Darkness. He had used it to achieve his insane ends without compunction or any hint of regret. In short, he was the embodiment of everything Takeru most hated. Takeru had noticed Hikari’s sad expression as she watched their fallen enemy. Perhaps she was good enough to pity, even to forgive, Sato Katsu, but Takeru could never forgive him.

And yet, now that the danger seemed past, Takeru began to wonder if he could forgive himself for what he had intended to do. He realized now, for the first time, that if fear and hatred were manifestations of darkness, in the intensity of his own hatred he had unwittingly allowed the darkness he despised to seep insidiously into his heart.

Opposite him, Miyako held Pururumon close in her arms. Though they kept returning to it, her eyes often left Sato’s prostrate form. Like most of the Chosen Children, she had been in the near presence of an approaching human death once before. She had wept when Oikawa died, but had taken comfort in his sacrifice. She would not weep for Sato, but his end seemed to her more terrible – both his gruesome injuries and the bleak purposelessness of it all would forever set it apart in her memory.

The Digimon were as silent as their partners. They could sense the Chosen Children’s awed horror, and it had taken them in thrall as well. So when Sato Katsu ceased to breathe, all present knew it.

***

In his house under the lake, Gennai stood watching the large screen in perplexity. Relief and anxiety contended within him.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Ilya said. “Have you?”

“I can’t say that I have,” Gennai answered. “I suppose that we should be glad, but – ah! They’re gone again!”

A few minutes ago the six missing Chosen Children had suddenly reappeared on their system, though the signals had been faint and ghostly. But at irregular intervals the signals would be lost entirely; the Chosen Children would vanish, only to reappear later. Even more strangely, their exact location in the Digital World could not be pinned down. And, which was more troubling, the system was experiencing other anomalies as well. It seemed to be interference of some kind. All they could be sure of was that the distortion was steadily growing worse in all quarters.

Gennai wondered whether he should try to contact those Chosen Children sleeping in the human world, but at the moment he had no idea what to tell them. Neither the problem nor its source could be identified at the moment. He had been unable to issue instructions even to his fellow Agents beyond advising them to stand by.

Ilya’s voice recalled him to the room. “Gennai. It appears that the human world is experiencing worsening earthquakes as well. By now the phenomena is more widespread there than it is in the Digital World.” A minute of silence fell, broken only by the clicking of Ilya’s keyboard. “The world’s seismologists can’t explain these earthquakes. In fact, they don’t seem to be true earthquakes at all.”

“If only we knew how it all tied together,” Gennai said. He pondered a moment. “I suppose it can’t be helped. See if you can make contact with the Chosen Children. Maybe they’re awake by now.”

“What should I tell them?” Ilya asked, still typing. Gennai had to think long and hard before replying.

***

Tokyo’s fitful sleep had begun to come to an end. In another hour, two hours at most, the sun would rise, and many would wake to reports of new destruction. Emergency crews were still at work in the vicinity of Tokyo Tower, and those already awake dreaded whatever might happen next.

Perhaps it was only this oppressive atmosphere of paranoia that lent the most ordinary things an aura of strangeness and anomaly. The dark, featureless sky had the aspect of a roof lowering over the world, and the waves appeared to take on strange patterns in Tokyo Bay. Many people noticed what seemed to be an unusual number of problems with their electronics – phone calls being dropped, digital clocks losing the time, even lightbulbs burning out and vehicles being difficult to start.

And some people began to notice the subdued, continuous trembling of the earth.

***

The Chosen Children had been moving for some time before they reached the other end of the valley and found their way to the top of another ridge. Sato Katsu’s body they had left where it lay, its face turned up to the endless gray skies of the Dark World, and all had breathed an inward sigh of relief when it had been lost to sight somewhere behind them.

Now the group stopped and caught their breath yet again. No one showed any sign of continuing on anytime soon; from this height they could see only the lifeless plateau of Leng stretching off towards the horizon, now veiled in mist. Daisuke was the first to speak.

“Is there a way back to our world? Or the Digital World?” he asked, addressing no one in particular. The way he said it implied that the uneasy thought had just occurred to him that he might not like the answer.

“Are the worlds really going to merge?” Miyako wondered. “Or was that just a lie? I don’t really see any difference here…”

It was true that there didn’t seem to be signs of any cataclysmic change – except perhaps that low, continuous rumble. But hearing Daisuke’s question, Ken was struck with an idea. How stupid not to have thought of it before!

“Remember when we first met Demon?” he asked the others. “I was able to open a gate to this world with my D-3. I wonder if I can open a gate from within. The gate point at Hikarigaoka was sealed, but…”

“It’s worth a try,” Iori said.

Ken raised his Digivice, but within a minute or two it became clear that they could expect nothing to happen. From the perspective of nearly all of them, the only discernible change was a thickening of the mist in the distance.

Hikari thought that perhaps she felt something out of the ordinary, but that suspicion had begun before Ken’s attempt to open a gate, and she couldn’t be sure that it actually meant anything. If it objectively existed, she believed it had something to do with the other self that had last manifested itself on the cliff before Sato. It was waking again.

In a way it frightened her, having this unknown thing inside, even though it had aided them many times since Anubimon had dissolved the walls of her black prison. She tried to set her apprehensions aside. That the alien personality opposed the powers of darkness she could at least be sure of. If she could somehow focus herself on it, perhaps she could just manage to discover the meaning of its inaudible whispers. She closed her eyes. To the best of her ability, she shut out all external sounds, and listened.

“Hikari?” YukimiBotamon asked a few moments later. The other Chosen Children paused in their fruitless discussion and looked in her direction. Hikari said nothing.

“Hikari-san?”

“I think I understand,” she answered at last, eyes still squeezed shut. “The darkness is growing…” She shuddered. “…but as the worlds meet…they can use what little they have left… Ah!”

She opened her eyes as she and the others were illuminated by a wide beam of pale light. Tinged with pink, it seemed to have fallen upon them from the sky. Those Digimon held by their partners jumped to the ground as if by reflex. The light remained only a moment before faltering and fading out, but it had done what it could. No longer Baby-level, the partner Digimon had returned to the forms they had achieved naturally in the days before meeting their human friends. Though surprised by the sudden transformation, the Chosen Children greeted their partners with gladness, feeling in a way that they had only now been truly reunited.

“Thank you, Hikari,” Tailmon said, standing on her hind legs and smiling at her partner.

“I’m not sure what exactly I did,” Hikari answered with a faint smile of her own, “but you’re welcome, Tailmon.”

The other pairs of partners greeted each other as well.

“Back to V-mon!” Daisuke whooped, and his partner nodded enthusiastically.

“We should be able to Armor evolve now,” Takeru said, the elation of seeing Patamon again having brought him for the moment out of his funk.

“It’s a fighting chance,” Iori said, stooping down to hug Armadimon.

“But what do we do now?” Miyako asked.

“This fog seems to be getting thicker,” said Hawkmon.

“Do you have any idea, Ken-chan?” asked Wormmon.

Ken raised his hand to his mouth in an attitude of thought, but the next instant had jerked it away as a violent shaking began under his very feet. A nearer, louder rumble could be heard over that continuous disturbance in the distance, and the Chosen stumbled about in the confusion of the first earthquake they had felt since their arrival in the Dark World. Small fissures opened in the rocky surface of the ground, and a gust of wind, wet with spray, swept through the group.

It was as the commotion subsided, and everyone began to regain their equilibrium, that the wind began to disperse the gathering fog, sweeping it from the horizon. When Hikari heard the sound of waves, terror clutched her, but upon turning around she was as astounded by what she saw as everyone else.

Where the plateau of Leng had once stretched on forever, a huge body of water now rolled. And there, one or two kilometers distant, its waves lapped what could only be the shores of Odaiba.

Hikari’s first thought was that she had wandered back into a dream, that she was seeing an illusion, a false vision of the well-known island, such as that whereon she had fled a terrible thing in the stolen shape of her brother. But then a different thought struck her. Sato Katsu had said that the various worlds would soon become one. She had been informed by another, stranger source that this was indeed the case. Could the process have already begun, leaving Tokyo Bay and the black plateau directly adjacent?

“It’s Odaiba!” Daisuke exclaimed. The other Chosen Children were too astonished to speak.

“Should we go, Takeru?” Patamon asked.

It was then they noticed that not all evidences of Leng’s topography had disappeared in that direction. To the northwest they could see a kind of shore leading off in the direction of mainland Tokyo, the towers of which could be made out dimly in the distant mist.

“Let’s go,” Takeru said, finding his voice and answering his partner. “Nii-san and the others may be there.”

Ken nodded. “We need to meet up and explain as best we can what’s going on.”

“But what will happen next?” Miyako wondered. “We don’t really even know what’s going on.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Daisuke asserted. “Let’s get going!”


	127. Contract

_“And I heard it hinted abroad that those who knew Nyarlathotep looked on sights which others saw not.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “Nyarlathotep”_

The pervasive unease in Tokyo had now begun to turn to panic. Strange things were happening. Earthquakes, and sudden drastic changes that no earthquake could account for. The fear spread quickly – remarkably so, since neither landline telephones nor cellphones could now be relied upon, and many televisions and radios broadcast nothing but static. Computers were also behaving oddly – everything that ran on electricity was affected in some way by the mysterious phenomenon.

Traffic had ground to a halt. Most vehicles could no longer be started, and those that had already been running seemed to be having trouble with their batteries. The trains would not run. Airline pilots found themselves deprived of their navigation instruments and communication with the ground. If the situation lasted long, emergency landings would have to made, and in that case the safety of crew and passengers would be in grave doubt.

Something had all but reduced Tokyo – and, though no one knew it, vast regions of the globe – to the pre-industrial era. Scientific experts and government officials were baffled no less than anyone else by the state of affairs. Could those Digimon be responsible? But there were no Digimon to be seen.

By now an unaccustomed quiet had fallen over the great city. Its citizens lived, talking to their family members and neighbors and coworkers, or glancing at the dead gray sky with apprehension, but the world about them was silent, eerily calm.

That calm was first broken where the streets of Tokyo met the waters of the Pacific Ocean. The gathering fear took definite shape when people who happened to be on the waterfront saw the dark objects that had begun to surface in the Bay. More of them appeared each minute, until the water was full of them. They were alive, swimming landward with ease and speed, and when they drew close enough for Tokyoites to see them clearly the commotion of terror began. When the dark shapes started to climb ashore, the commotion grew louder.

***

Hiraga Ayaki awoke in his darkened bedroom. A light sleeper by professional necessity, he woke listening intently, with the sense that it was a sound that had awakened him. But whatever the noise had been, it did not repeat itself. All was quiet. If anything, all was much _too_ quiet. Thoughts of some intruder in the little apartment, holding their breath after some accidental misstep, occurred to him, but as he continued to listen he realized that the silence spoke of something more than that.

Tokyo was one of the world’s largest cities. No higher than his apartment was (it was only the fourth floor), anything approaching total silence in the midst of that sleepless metropolis would seem unnatural. Yet he began to suspect that it wasn’t any sound that had disturbed his sleep, but this unaccountable lack of it. Could this be the city that last night had been in the midst of a roaring panic?

Having taken in the room and determined that it was empty except for himself, Hiraga slipped quietly out of his bed and drew aside the nearest window blind just long enough to see outside. What he saw reinforced the idea that something was unusual. All vehicles were standing still in the streets with their lights off. He saw a number of pedestrians, which was nothing out of the ordinary, but their behavior struck him as strange. Most looked oddly harried, and the majority were moving in the same general direction. He could even see a police officer apparently doing his best to direct what appeared almost to be a panicked and confused evacuation.

Within the next minute Hiraga had gotten fully dressed and armed. He had no idea what was happening, but he wanted to be ready to move when the time came. Could the disturbance have anything to do with Sato and the Digimon? He’d rather expected the night before that Sato would contact him again in his dreams and give him new orders, but he couldn’t remember dreaming anything at all. Maybe he should try to get in touch with his employer.

He would have called one of the numbers at which he’d previously reached Sato, but his cellphone had no reception whatsoever. That wasn’t a problem he had ever had here before.

Hiraga debated with himself about what action to take, if any. The choice might be easy if only he knew what was happening. Returning to the window, he saw fewer people in the street, but saw also that _other_ figures, black and sinister, had begun to appear. Then suddenly his attention was redirected upward as something the size of an aircraft – a dark, sinuous, living shape – flew swiftly past at a level only a story or two above him.

It could only have been a Digimon. Whatever was happening, his current job was connected to it. And yet he knew nothing about it. Everything that he had experienced since waking pointed to disaster on a larger scale than anything Sato and the rest had previously attempted, and Hiraga Ayaki had been given no role to play. All his previous doubts and anxieties rushed back in on him. Could he have finally outlived his usefulness, and been abandoned to perish amidst the common bulk of humanity?

Only last night he had been considering getting out. Perhaps the time to sever ties with his current employers had already come. Flight from the city, perhaps from Japan, would be a gamble, but he’d known for some time now that things would come to a head sooner or later. This had been one of the longest and certainly the strangest of any job he’d ever taken, and he was thoroughly sick of it.

It didn’t take him long to pack – in his profession it didn’t do to be rooted too securely. In an emergency like this, a single suitcase was enough, if perhaps not ideal.

Hiraga met only one or two people on his way down to the apartment building’s lobby. He took the stairs, since it wouldn’t have surprised him if the power had gone out for some reason, and he didn’t care to get trapped in an elevator. He tread as lightly as possible, but his footfalls still seemed loud in a continued silence that was quickly becoming oppressive. He listened for movement in the lobby before leaving the shelter of the stairwell, but heard nothing.

The lobby proved to be devoid both of humans and of anything else. He wondered which of the building’s several exits it would be safest to take. The street visible from his apartment windows was clearly not an option. But before he could reconnoiter further, a sound stopped him dead. Somewhere a door had opened, and unless his ears deceived him it was one of the doors abutting the very street he had ruled out. The large lobby’s irregular layout prevented him from seeing who had entered, but he could hear unhurried footsteps coming his way.

The doors to the restrooms were only a few meters from where he stood, so as quickly and quietly as possible he slunk to the men’s room and let himself in, taking care not to let the door close audibly.

He waited a moment, facing the door but standing quite clear of it. There had been nothing strange about those footsteps, but he didn’t trust them, and their leisurely air in particular. His handgun was in his shoulder holster. If danger threatened, he wouldn’t hesitate to use it. Should he draw it now? No. The new arrival might be harmless, and if he needed the gun he could have it ready in a moment.

The restroom door opened without a sound, and someone entered. Hiraga recognized him at once, though in the present circumstances he felt no sense of reassurance. It was Sato’s “Dark Man.” He smiled placidly and stopped just inside the door. Despite the bright fluorescent lights his features were dim.

As Hiraga stood there rapidly going over all the reasons this person could be here, and calculating how many of them meant disaster, the newcomer spoke. The voice was friendly and reassuring, though the effect was undermined somewhat by the mischievous and almost literal twinkling in the dark eyes.

“I was hoping I’d find you here, Hiraga-san. I come bearing what you may or may not consider bad news. You see, we’re both out of a job. Sato’s dead.”

“…I see,” Hiraga said after a moment. “That’s too bad,” he lied. If Sato’s death really meant he was out of a job, then he had no remaining obligations. But he didn’t trust this strangely foreign man, and couldn’t help but think that actually some more sinister purpose had brought him here in person. “I suppose that means I’m free to relocate to some less volatile country, then?” Hiraga asked, attempting to force the issue.

“I suppose so,” the other answered. “Though I don’t think it will matter much in the end.”

“I’ll be going then,” Hiraga said, though he felt the commonplace phrase sounded a little ridiculous in light of whatever was happening outside. In spite of his statement, neither of them moved. Hiraga shifted his weight a bit to reassure himself of his gun’s presence. “I wish you luck in making sure you’re paid,” he added, just to say something.

“Paid?” the Dark Man repeated, as if the thought had never occurred to him before. “Oh. No, no. The work is its own reward.”

Hiraga’s gaze flickered over the room. He was becoming more uncomfortable by the second.

“Come to think of it, though,” the Dark Man continued, speaking slowly, “there was one little thing Sato promised me for my services…”

Hiraga wasn’t really listening. He was in no mood for small talk.

He happened to glance aside at the long restroom mirror.

A terrified gasp escaped him, and his gaze snapped back to the Dark Man. He had suddenly gone very pale. His lips working but unable to form words, he looked again at the mirror, and again back to the figure before him.

“Something wrong?” the Dark Man asked softly, smiling.

Hiraga’s right hand flew to a place beneath his suit jacket. The gun came out and his finger pulled the trigger twice in quick succession. The reports sounded oddly muffled. The Dark Man only grinned and walked forward, heedless also of the three bullets that followed.

The next moment Hiraga felt himself lifted off the floor, and with the weapon fallen from his numb fingers he stared down in incredulous terror at the shadowy face upturned below him. Its teeth were white, its eyes wide, black, and twinkling.

The room seemed filled with the roar of chill winds. Hiraga’s ribs felt clutched by burning ice. The black eyes continued to widen, the glittering specks in their depths shone more fiercely. All the world was becoming a great black hole, the boundless depths of outer space. Now the room was gone, the terrible hands were gone, Hiraga was alone and falling, falling. Falling into the stars.


	128. Invasion

_“‘That awful night … I seed ‘em … I was up in the cupalo … hordes of ‘em … swarms of ‘em …’” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Shadow Over Innsmouth”_

As her latest nightmare rose to previously untouched heights of panic terror, Mimi managed to snap awake. She lay in a cold sweat for a few moments, reassuring herself that she was now awake. The Takenouchis had provided a futon for her and Palmon in Sora’s room. By turning her head on the pillow she could see Sora, still asleep and perhaps grappling with a nightmare of her own. Piyomon, who had stayed by her partner’s side as if to ward off bad dreams, had dozed off and looked just like a roosting bird – a ball of pink feathers with her head sitting atop it.

Mimi couldn’t help but smile a little at the sight, and as the seconds ticked by she lay watching the little Digimon’s breathing. Tired or not, she had no immediate desire to go back to sleep.

She had been dreaming that she was back in America, shopping for clothes, but everything was wrong. The fabrics whispered, the lights flickered, the mannequins… In the end she had been trying to get out, but the doors were closed, and dead faces she recognized were reflected in the glass.

She shuddered, thoroughly disheartened again by the memory of it. She tensed when the tones of hers and Sora’s D-Terminals suddenly broke the silence. After a second she rolled over and reached for hers.

“I’ll protect you… Mimi…” Palmon muttered in her sleep.

Mimi thumbed open the D-Terminal’s panel and found a message waiting for her from Koshiro.

“Huh?” She quickly sat up, reading through the message again. Wakened by the movement, Palmon opened her eyes and blinked up at her partner. Mimi crawled out of the futon and touched Sora on the shoulder. “Sora-san?”

Sora started suddenly awake, and Mimi knew that she really had been having a nightmare.

“Mimi-chan? What’s the matter?”

“It’s from Koshiro-kun,” Mimi said, holding up her D-Terminal as if Sora could read it from where she lay. “Something’s happening! You got one too.”

Now wide awake, Sora quickly got up and retrieved her own device, finding an identical message from Koshiro waiting for her.

 _I’ve heard from Gennai-san,_ it said. _Something strange is happening, and the distortion is growing, and the Real World is feeling its effects. There may also be a chance that Daisuke-kun and the others have been found. We should all get ready and meet. Please confirm when you get this message. Communications are breaking down, and the D-Terminals may be affected._

“Sora?” Piyomon asked sleepily. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” Sora said as she typed up a quick response. “But we need to get going.”

***

Yamato was prepared for Koshiro’s message when it came. He had come to the point of choosing useless wakefulness over sleep made equally useless by troubled dreams. The nightmares of this latest night seemed to have lost something of their realism and detail, but their frequency had increased to the point where they seemed to occupy every minute of unconsciousness. Yamato had been awake at the time his father had left for work.

When he received the D-Terminal message, he had hardly come to the end of it before he was heading for the door, Gabumon following behind him. They’d known that something unusual was going on. The television wasn’t picking up anything, and Gabumon had complained to Yamato about feeling cold and creepy without knowing why. When they reached ground level, Yamato wasn’t surprised to see Taichi and Agumon already outside and heading for Odaiba Mansion.

Taichi and his partner had actually been outside a long while. He had slipped out as quietly as he could not long after his father left to begin the commute to the mainland, since he dreaded having to answer any questions his mother might ask about Hikari and her whereabouts. She couldn’t help but have noticed his recent tenseness, and naturally she would be worried. What if she asked him to put her in touch with her daughter?

“Taichi!”

Taichi turned his head without slackening his pace much. “Yamato, do you know anything?” he called back.

“Not yet.”

And that was the end of the conversation. The boys redoubled their speed, and their partners, with shorter legs and encumbered by their usual disguises, were hard-pressed to keep up with them.

About them as they ran they could see the signs that something was wrong. Traffic stood still, without so much as an idling engine, and an oppressive silence had fallen on Odaiba. What noise there was only added to the strangeness. Yamato noticed for the first time what Taichi had before him – the slight trembling of the ground – and panicked yells could be heard not far distant.

“Taichi!” exclaimed Agumon suddenly. Spurred by new hope, Taichi had been focused on getting to Koshiro’s apartment as quickly as possible. Had Agumon not called his name he wouldn’t have noticed the line of dark figures across the street. At first he mistook them for normal people, in spite of the nasty feeling that even a brief glance had instilled in him. No human being, and few Digimon, had ever appalled him like that.

Slowing down to get a better look at them, he saw them for what they were, though he had no name for them. They stood in a widely spaced row, inky black things with proportions clearly inhuman. Even at a distance he could see the eerie stare of their unblinking eyes.

Taichi stopped entirely and returned their gaze, almost frozen by his strange repugnance. His pause gave Yamato and Gabumon time to catch up.

“What are they?” Yamato asked, but Taichi could only shake his head in confusion.

Then the creatures went into motion. As if at a signal they all came hopping across the street towards the two Chosen Children and their Digimon, moving with surprising speed. Agumon and Gabumon threw off their disguises.

**“Baby Flame!”**  
**“Petit Fire!”**

The monsters hit by Agumon’s orange flames and Gabumon’s blue flames recoiled, but the rest still came on. One kicked off the ground with its huge webbed feet, leaping at Taichi with one hand raised to strike. Taichi raised an arm to block the blow, but before it could fall—

**“Magical Fire!”**

The spiraling flames drilled into the thing’s chest, and instead of its hand hitting Taichi, its back hit the concrete.

“Piyomon?” Taichi said, turning to see Sora approaching at a run and her partner flying in to join the fight.

**“Poison Ivy!”**

Behind Sora followed Mimi. Palmon had just engaged one of the enemies with her long vines, stopping it in its tracks, and Agumon was launching fireball after fireball at the others. One creature had closed the distance between it and Gabumon, but with his horn he repelled its swipes and fought back with his claws.

“Hey! Guys!”

It was Jou’s voice. He and Gomamon had arrived on the scene.

**“Marching Fishes!”**

From a portal of swirling white water Gomamon’s little allies came streaming. A mass of them smashed into one of the black creatures at top speed, sending it flying.

Before long, the partner Digimon’s repeated attacks had knocked down all of the mysterious attackers. But the fight wasn’t over. Slowly, the things began to pick themselves off the ground.

“Where’s Koshiro?” Taichi asked Jou as he joined the group.

“I haven’t seen him,” Jou said. “And what…?”

He watched the black monstrosities with a mixture of disgust and bewilderment as the Digimon regrouped, positioning themselves between the humans and the others in a semicircle.

“This isn’t working,” Yamato growled. “Gabumon, evolve!”

“Okay!” Gabumon shouted. And yet the seconds ticked by and nothing happened. The black creatures had regained their feet. Yamato looked at the screen of his Digivice in bewilderment, but there wasn’t the slightest reaction.

“I can’t evolve, Taichi!” Agumon said.

“What’s going on?” Taichi wondered. “A Dark Tower?”

The Chosen Children could only grit their teeth as their enemies advanced again, cautiously but without any sign of fear. The partner Digimon took up fighting stances once more. It seemed that they would have to rely on their Child forms for this battle.

Again the varicolored fire flew, and Palmon’s vines lashed out, and Gomamon’s fish lent their support. But everyone could see it wouldn’t be enough. More enemies were approaching, so many that the Chosen Children wondered where they all could have come from. They looked like fish-men. Could they have crawled out of Tokyo Bay? They all seemed to be coming from the direction of the water, apparently having crossed the same beach on which the teens had sat the previous night.

**“Petit Thunder!”**

Pinkish lightning descended on one of the monsters that had been creeping around to flank the wall of Chosen Digimon, paralyzing it.

“Koshiro-kun!” Mimi exclaimed, turning in the direction of Odaiba Mansion. “And someone…”

Others of the Chosen Children looked away from their partners and the fish-things long enough to see that she was right. Koshiro was running towards them, and he was not alone. A white-clad figure came rushing in, and quicker than thought sliced clean through Tentomon’s target with a double-edged sword. The monster exploded into black particles and vanished. It was then the newcomer turned his head and gave the children a thin smile. It was Gennai.

Another of the Deep Ones launched itself at him from the side, but with a quick turn and a vertical slash he bisected it as well. Its compatriots kept their distance, but several of them raised their hands above their heads, and the next instant objects as dark as they had formed in their grasp – things shaped like long spikes. Three of the creatures hurled their weapons simultaneously with deadly force and accuracy. Gennai leapt aside, just managing to parry one projectile that he couldn’t have otherwise avoided.

Some of the other Deep Ones stepped forward, missiles in hand, but paused as they and the Chosen Children heard the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. Two of Gennai’s fellow Agents had arrived, each carrying his own sword. Gennai heard them too, and immediately went on the offensive, his blade deflecting the Deep Ones’ spears and slashing through the Deep Ones themselves. The partner Digimon redoubled their own efforts as Ilya and Benjamin joined the battle.

“Guys!” called Koshiro. He came running up to his friends, and paused for a moment to catch his breath.

“What’s happening, Koshiro-kun?” Mimi asked. “Why are Gennai-san and the others here?”

“Koshiro!” The word emerged from Taichi and Yamato’s mouth almost simultaneously. They both asked the same question, posed two different ways – the question that had haunted them almost continuously now for over twenty-four hours. Where were Takeru, Hikari, and the rest?

“We don’t know that for certain,” Koshiro began, as the other two struggled to restrain their impatience, “but their signals were detected in the Digital World by Gennai-san and the others. We think they may have escaped somehow, but we have a problem.”

“I’ll say we do!” muttered Jou.

“What’s happened?” Sora pressed.

“It may take some time to explain,” Koshiro answered, “but this is all due to a massive distortion. The power of darkness is starting to pour into our world from somewhere.”

“The Digital World?” Sora asked. Koshiro shook his head.

“It’s from somewhere else.”

“That place…” Taichi whispered with sudden conviction. It had to be the world that his sister had been so afraid of. He realized for the first time that the things they were fighting matched Hikari’s shuddering description of that dark ocean’s inhabitants.

“It’s affecting the Digital World too,” Koshiro continued. “According to Gennai-san, the Holy Beasts are at their limit trying to maintain the balance against it. It has something to do with seals of some kind that were recently broken. I don’t know all the details yet.”

“Hey, why can’t our Digimon evolve?” Mimi asked.

“It’s probably the dark power,” Koshiro answered. “It’s similar to how the Dark Towers prevented evolution, but we don’t know what exactly is causing it.”

Suddenly Agumon’s voice interrupted the conversation.

“Taichi! They’re backing off!”

It was true. The ranks of the Deep Ones had been thinned considerably now by the swords of the Agents, and the survivors were hanging back, many retreating with slow backward steps. Any sense of triumph on the part of the Chosen was short lived, however.

“Look up there!” Sora said, pointing towards the sky. Something was quickly approaching on huge black wings – a serpentine creature with the same black and glistening surface as the Deep Ones. It swept by overhead, low enough that everyone felt the wind of its passing, then circled about and paused in midair, flapping its wings. They saw its red eyes glaring down at them and heard its hissing roar.

“This isn’t good,” Gennai muttered to himself. “Chosen Children, run!”


	129. The Gathering

_“And everyone felt that the world and perhaps the universe had passed from the control of known gods or forces to that of gods or forces which were unknown.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “Nyarlathotep”_

The spread of chaos over the face of the globe was rapid. The day had failed to come for some places, like Tokyo, while elsewhere the sun vanished as clouds of charcoal gray usurped clear skies. Electronics – anything computerized – worked now only fitfully if they worked at all. The darkness had begun to choke everything off.

If that were all, the disaster would have been complete enough, but there were other, even less explicable phenomena as well. The very laws of physics and geometry seemed to have been thrown off. Sections of cities disappeared, or could only be seen at a certain angle, while land features that should have been oceans apart could be walked between. It was as if space itself had been contorted into a tortuous new shape. And sometimes the windings of this strange new world led into alien scenes that did not seem to belong to the known world at all.

And out of the planet’s oceans and waterways marched the Deep Ones. Millions of them, sometimes accompanied by other creatures, began to occupy heavily populated areas. Wherever they met with violent resistance they responded in turn, but their focus was on specific communities. In some of these areas they were forced to search, while in others the world’s Chosen Children and their partners came out to meet them.

Those partner Digimon at the Adult level could tear through the ranks of Deep Ones with relative ease, but the hordes of black monstrosities seemed endless, and it was clear that the Chosen Children’s defenders were fighting a losing battle. Fights became retreats, buildings became besieged, and where two or more Chosen happened to meet they made their stand as best they could, Child-level Digimon sticking close to their humans friends as a last line of defense.

Along the coasts of Australia and the United States, in Central America, throughout Asia, and on the shores of Europe the battle was joined. Humanity, handicapped by the loss of its vaunted technology, defended itself as best it could, and the Digimon who shared their world with them did what was in their power to stem the dark tide.

***

The serpentine creature roared, plunged, and ascended again, black wings beating the air. The six Chosen Children and the Agents had taken shelter as best they could under the overhang of a nearby building, but found themselves pinned there. At their current level the Digimon had no way to defeat such a creature. For that matter, the thing moved so quickly in spite of its size that what attacks they did launch tended not even to hit it.

Escape would be difficult. Before too long the Deep Ones would be sure to regroup and advance on their hiding spot. Even if they did manage to escape, the Chosen Children realized, they had no clear idea of where to go or what they could possibly do to solve such a widespread problem.

“I wonder if there’s another way out of here,” Sora said to Taichi. “Those things seem to be everywhere. I’m worried about our parents.”

Taichi could only set his teeth and glare up at the gray sky, while Koshiro, overhearing, nodded in agreement. “It’s possible that there’s a rear exit through one of these buildings,” he said, “but they may not be available to the public.”

“Well, in circumstances like these…” Jou said. As his voice trailed off, Gennai (or, at least, one of the Agents) spoke.

“If necessary, the three of us can act as a diversion, but it won’t do to act rashly. The safety of the Chosen Children is our top priority.”

Taichi turned as if to make an angry retort, but—

“Look!” Yamato shouted, pointing into the air. Though listening to the conversation, his gaze had remained focused outward. Those who had been looking elsewhere turned in response to his exclamation, but saw only the winged creature wheeling in midair, lower than before but still too distant to be an immediate threat. But the next moment they saw what Yamato had meant. The monster was under attack.

Beams of red and green light pierced the monotony of the monochrome sky, striking the creature repeatedly. Smaller, brighter shapes had joined it over Odaiba, and to their astonishment Taichi and the others recognized them. At a distance details were hard to make out, but even the most pessimistic among them accepted the fact that those were Armor Digimon up there. And in that case…

“Hikari?” Taichi whispered.

“Takeru!”

Yamato squinted at the tawny form of what could only be Pegasmon, trying to determine whether the Digimon had a rider.

Though their brothers remained in doubt a while longer, Takeru and Hikari were indeed there, each perched atop their partner. The rush of air had braced them up a little. Combined with the joy of having their Digimon friends returned to them, it had helped them shake off some of their tiredness. The Digimon themselves seemed full of energy, fortunately. Deletion had had no lasting effects on them.

Seeing the Winged One shooting up towards them with a roar, Pegasmon and Nefertimon took evasive action, the greaves on their forelimbs glowing.

**“Sanctuary Bind!”**

The lasso of shining light closed upon the enemy as the two Digimon crossed paths, sinking into the black flesh like white-hot metal. As the monster writhed about in the air, hissing and snapping wildly at its enemies, Holsmon closed in on it from the front. Miyako clung to his back.

**“Mach Impulse!”**

Launched from the wings of his helmet, the red energy blade passed through its target like a sword through water, and the thing disintegrated. Miyako sighed with relief. She hadn’t been sure that their Armor Digimon would be able to hurt a thing like that.

The three flying Digimon and their riders descended to street level. The older Chosen Children rushed out from the shelter of the building to meet them. Even if the street had been crawling with Deep Ones, they could not have kept themselves from doing so.

“Hikari!”

“Takeru!”

“Miyako-san!”

Tears stood in Hikari’s eyes as she leapt to the ground and greeted her brother with a cry of “Onii-chan!” Takeru, maintaining a greater reserve, met Yamato’s gaze with a loving smile as he tried to keep from tearing up. He might have jumped down as well if it weren’t for the pain in his leg. The most demonstrative, as usual, was Miyako, practically wailing as she received the greetings of Mimi-oneesama and Izumi-senpai.

“I was afraid that…” Taichi began, but rather than finish the thought he hugged Hikari tightly. It was not something he usually did, but after all that had happened they both felt in need of it. He let go of her quickly so as not to embarrass her, then took a quick look around. “Where’s Daisuke and the rest?”

“Daisuke-kun and Ichijouji-kun are coming on Lighdramon,” she answered. “They were going to make their way over the rocks while we flew on ahead.”

“Iori-kun should be getting to the beach soon in Submarimon,” Takeru said, though he added, a little grimly, “I hope they don’t run into too many enemies in the water.”

“Those things,” Taichi said, frowning, “Are they…?”

Hikari nodded in answer, her lips pressed firmly together. She’d yet to encounter one of the beings at close range – she and her partner had taken to the air not long after the group had decided to head for Odaiba – but she knew what they were, and shuddered at the thought of them. She’d had her fill of them in her dreams, and was in no hurry to meet them in the flesh. Though perhaps less dangerous than the winged creatures, the memory of the words one had once spoken to her rendered them a hundred times more horrifying to her mind. She thrust the thought aside.

“Are Mom and Dad alright?” she asked.

For the first time Taichi thought about the rest of his family, and the families of the others. Just how widespread was this problem? Would those who stayed indoors be safe, and for how long?

“Dad’s at work,” he said, uneasily. “Mom is still at home, but…” His voice trailed off. The others looked occupied with their own uncomfortable reflections.

“Hey!” In the unusual stillness, Daisuke’s yell reached them from a distance that normally would have been impossible. “Taichi-senpai!”

Lighdramon was approaching in long bounds from the direction Taichi and Yamato had come. Besides his partner, he carried Ken, and Ken carried Wormmon. Within the next few seconds they closed most of the distance between them and the group standing in the street.

“Where are they coming from?” Yamato asked, looking at his brother in puzzlement. “Where have you guys been all this time?”

“We’ve been in the World of Darkness,” Ken answered, having overheard the question. “Those black creatures are from there. The worlds are going to merge into one!”

The older Chosen reacted with surprise. “How do you know?” Jou asked. But before Ken could answer, Gennai stepped forward. He and the other Agents had been hanging back for a minute or two in deference to the emotional reunion.

“Based on what we’ve seen, that would make sense,” Gennai said. “The Dark World and the Real World have merged to some extent. The only reason the Digital World hasn’t been swept up in this is that the Four Holy Beasts are devoting all their power to preventing it. With the Seeds of Light not yet grown and the barrier seals gone, they’re the Digital World’s last line of defense.”

“So what can we do to stop it?” Daisuke asked.

“That’s the question,” Gennai nodded, “but I’m afraid I don’t know. It may not be possible to stop it.”

“We shouldn’t say that until we’ve done everything we can,” Taichi said. “There has to be something we can at least try.”

“If you were able to stop this process at its source, that might work,” Gennai said. “The problem is that we have no idea what the source is.”

“No,” Takeru said, speaking slowly, “I think we do.”

Hikari knew what he meant, and nodded, her eyes haunted.

“Their god,” she said quietly. “The thing that _he…_ ”

“Dagomon, right?” Ken said, keeping his own voice low. Again Hikari nodded.

“Oh, look over there!” said Mimi, breaking in on the brief silence that followed. Looking to where she pointed, the others saw a dull yellow shape rise into the air from beyond the trees screening the beach.

“Digmon and Iori,” Koshiro said. “Good, they’ve made it, then.”

Before long Digmon landed in the street, depositing Iori, who greeted Jou and the rest without any trace of his usual reservedness. It was clear that he was glad to see them again. On top of everything else, the journey through the dark waters of the bay had been nerve-wracking, too reminiscent of one of his recent nightmares. Several times Submarimon had evaded the swimmers that stared at them with yellow eyes.

“Now we’re all here,” Daisuke said. “Now we need to find this Dagomon guy.”

“But how?” Yamato said. “Dagomon could be anywhere.”

“Excuse me.” It was one of the Agents – Ilya. “There’s something that strikes me as significant. If this entire world and the World of Darkness are in the process of merging, why did Miyako and the rest appear so near to their homes? They could have been transported anywhere at random.”

“Yes,” Koshiro agreed. “There does seem to be some kind of will guiding all of this.”

“So maybe stopping this Digimon really would return things to normal,” Sora said.

“Yes,” Ilya said. “But what I don’t understand is why the enemy would want you all gathered in the same place. It would be more to their advantage to separate and overwhelm you.”

They considered this for a moment, but before anyone could think of a possible explanation their thoughts were interrupted.

“Look!” Benjamin said. “Something is happening.”

The others, following his gaze, looked down the street towards the southeast. They saw what he saw, but the Chosen Children could hardly believe that the thing was actually happening. It was like a fadeout – a large section of familiar Odaiba fading into a vista of nothing but waves. As they watched, Palette Town vanished entirely, and the huge Ferris wheel stood no longer stood against the gray sky.

“W-What happened!?”

“Is this part of the distortion?” Ken wondered. “Ah!”

The earth began to shake in an earthquake more violent and more lasting than those that had gone before. The Chosen Children and bipedal Digimon struggled to keep their footing, while the Armor forms braced themselves with legs wide apart.

“Now what!?” Miyako moaned.

Hikari was the first to realize what was about to happen, but the shock prevented her from saying anything. She felt it again – a great dark consciousness turning not only towards her this time but towards them all, reaching up for them from the depths. Something was rising. She knew it even before the waters began to churn in the distance. It was not chance that had gathered the twelve of them in one place. At long last, _He_ was about to reveal himself, to face his enemies, and to crush them all at once.


	130. Forms of Darkness

_“A monstrous creature resembling nothing so much as a squid…with certain abominable approximations to the human form in its contours. I had never before seen so utterly loathsome and nightmarish a form… About [it] there hung an air of sinister evil so profound and pervasive that I could not think it the product of any one world or age. Rather must that monstrous shape be a focus for all the evil in unbounded space, throughout the aeons past and to come…” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Diary of Alonzo Typer”_

Something broke the surface of gray, agitated water. Despite the distance the Chosen Children could clearly discern its shape as it continued to rise – a huge black pyramid. Many of them couldn’t help but be surprised. What was an enormous building like that doing in the middle of Tokyo Bay? _Was_ it still Tokyo Bay? They only turned away from the strange sight when they heard the sound of whimpering in their midst.

“Hikari? What’s wrong?” Taichi asked. He had never seen his sister like this before – shaking, eyes squeezed shut as if she feared to see something unbearable. Hikari’s masking of her insecurities was never more rigid than when she was in his presence. He’d thought at first that she was hurt, but saw now that that couldn’t be the case.

Most of the other Chosen Children were equally shocked, but a few had seen this before, and had an idea of what it meant. Miyako, her hands on Hikari’s shoulders, cast a nervous look over the water, where the black pyramid continued to rise and the tops of other structures began to thrust out of the waves.

The Chosen and Agents were not the only ones watching that ominous ascent. Atop a nearby building, out of their sight, the Dark Man stood and observed the frothing water with a quiet smile.

“You’ve played the game well, my friend,” he said. “It took a while, but now almost all of the inessential pieces have been removed from the board, and there is only your last triumph remaining. Demon gone, Anubimon, Neptunemon – and poor Sato! I think he really must have regretted at the very end. Not that that matters, of course.”

The Dark Man chuckled, then raised his left hand and examined it with a critical eye.

“Fading already,” he muttered. “And so soon after eating, too. Well, it can’t be helped. I suppose I should go say my farewells.”

Down at street level, Iori suddenly exclaimed, “That looks like…!”

Some of the other Chosen Children had noticed it too. The black pyramid had risen high enough that they could see it wasn’t actually a pyramid. It was only the cap of a larger structure – the top of an obelisk. It rose at about the center of the cluster of black stone structures, tallest of them, a Dark Tower to dwarf every other in existence.

The other buildings had various shapes, though all appeared to be of the same material. In size they were all enormous, in architecture strange and inhuman.

“It’s like a whole sunken city!” Mimi said in an awed whisper. “Like Atlantis…”

Hikari, quiet now but still fighting against her panic, realized then that she had seen that “city” before. For two nights in a row she had walked amidst those windowless buildings. It was the place of alien stench, of explosions in the mind, and of the physically impossible door that opened on blackness and…

“No,” she said, shaking her head, with the tears of terror in her staring eyes. “No, it’s a dream!” She looked wildly to the others, seeming to shrink into herself. “This is a dream, isn’t it? Please! Tell me it’s…!”

Her fear was contagious. Her friends didn’t know what had so excited her, but from moment to moment they liked the situation less and less. No one had even managed to stammer out a response when a voice that did not belong to any of them, an adult’s voice, spoke up.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s not a dream this time.”

Several of the Digimon exclaimed before the sentence was completed. They sensed a presence that unsettled them, and for half of them the sensation was not unfamiliar. Everyone turned to face the figure standing a short distance from the group. It was the Dark Man, looking more phantasmal than ever, the shadows clinging to him so that only the thin crescent of his white teeth and the stars twinkling deep in his eye sockets could be discerned clearly.

Of the six oldest Chosen Children, only Yamato had encountered the Dark Man before, in dreams, but the rest knew without being told that something evil stood before them.

“Bastard…” Daisuke growled. He felt the impulse to call Lighdramon to attack this monster, and only hesitated because he remembered the outcome of their previous battle. Similar reflections had passed through the minds of several of his friends, and they and their partners could only wait on edge for whatever was about to happen. Lighdramon and his friends knew that if it came to a battle, the end result would probably be the same as last time, but they would defend their partners to the death again if they must.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to fight,” the Dark Man said. “I just wanted to have a last little talk. By the way, if Professor Takenouchi were here he could tell you that that’s R’lyeh on the horizon, not Atlantis.”

Sora and Mimi both started.

Gennai stepped forward. He made no overtly threatening action, but anyone could see that he was ready to strike with his sword at a moment’s notice. Benjamin and Ilya stood attentive behind him.

“Who are you?” Gennai asked.

“Don’t you have other things to attend to?” the Dark Man asked, gesturing with one hand. As if it had conjured them the Deep Ones stepped forward out of the gathering fog and began creeping closer. Gennai reflected for a moment, then nodded to his compatriots and reluctantly wheeled to face the approaching threat. The other two Agents followed his lead. Several of the younger Chosen Children wondered if they would have done so had they known just how dangerous this “man” was.

“What do you want?” Ken asked, just managing to keep his voice from quavering.

“A talk, like I said,” the Dark Man answered. “I’ll keep it brief.” He raised one of his hands before him as if to let them examine it. The gesture wasn’t aggressive, but the Armor Digimon tensed at it. Daisuke and the others only stared. The hand was ill-defined, almost insubstantial, as if it were melting into oily black smoke.

“What’s happening?” Ken asked at last.

“Now that Sato’s dead, my contract is fulfilled,” the Dark Man answered, smiling wistfully.

“What do you mean?” asked Takeru. “What _are_ you?”

“Just darkness,” the Dark Man said with a shrug. “Sato Katsu called upon Darkness for a servant to aid him, and he got me. Now that he’s gone I’m no longer needed, and so before long I’ll be absorbed back into the Source that gave me birth.”

Unsure how to respond, the Chosen Children kept quiet for a second, still looking suspicious and bewildered.

“It’s a pity I have to pass away before the climax, but I’m leaving you in the capable hands…” He smirked at that. “…of someone you might say I’m related to. That’s the wonderful thing about Darkness, you see. It takes a thousand different forms, and once you’ve beaten them all, well…” And he chuckled softly. “…then come the next thousand.”

Other parts of the Dark Man’s body had now begun to lose their coherence. His feet were lost in black fumes that hovered just over the ground. His skin and clothing had lost some of their color, as if someone with a remote were lowering the brightness of a television screen.

“Wait, damn it!” Daisuke shouted. “You killed Nat-chan, and the rest! I’m not letting you leave without settling things!”

The Dark Man laughed.

“Oh, you really have yourself to thank. If you hadn’t beaten Takaishi-kun to the punch and killed Sato,” he said, with a malicious grin at Takeru, “I might still have a reason to exist. Didn’t you say you were going to wipe the smile off my face? You’re about to wipe me out entirely.”

The Dark One’s laughter rose towards the sunless sky with the pitch black effluvia of his dissolving form. There was something so terrible in the sound, something so insane and powerful and heartless, so divorced from human emotion that the Chosen Children and their partners could not help but shudder at it. Soon the whole mass of blackness was ascending in a shapeless cloud. Two eyes like supernovae burned in it for a few moments, then it all faded into thin air, and the laughter abruptly ceased.

_“Dammit!”_ Daisuke screamed, collapsing forward and beating his hands on the concrete. After all the pain that thing had caused, it got to just vanish into thin air? With a _laugh?_ It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right.

The others said nothing. There seemed nothing to say. Some felt angry too, some of the older Chosen felt confused, but Ken and the others who had interacted with the Dark One felt relieved that its last joke was now behind them.

It was only now that some of the Chosen Children, and more particularly their Digimon, took notice again of their surroundings. While present, the Dark Man had absorbed all their attention, but now some looked again out over the water to see what was developing, or looked aside to make sure that the Agents had the attacking Deep Ones under control. Jou turned his head in time to see Benjamin’s sword slice through his current opponent, the last of the creatures within striking distance. As it disintegrated, Benjamin and the other two Agents paused.

Dozens of Deep Ones could be seen to have gathered in spite of the fog, but they had ceased to advance. Gennai wondered if perhaps they were wary after seeing so many of their kind cut down, but it struck him that they looked more as if they were waiting for something.

Taichi had turned his attention back to his sister after the Dark One had vanished. Hikari was quiet now, but still not quite able to conceal her distress.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

Hikari looked at him. “Y-Yes…” she answered. But she could see that he wasn’t convinced, and she also noticed Takeru watching her and looking doubtful. She knew without looking that Tailmon was observing her too, and at that moment she felt the urge to apologize to them all. She might have done something of the kind, despite having no idea what words to use, when something happened to drive everything else from her mind.

It was a sensation of some sort, more mental than physical. She’d felt something like it before – the sense of a change and of something behind her that she’d felt before seeing her first Deep One in the hallway of the elementary school. This time the feeling was much more intense. She heard several of the others exclaim, and wondered whether they felt it too, or if they had only seen whatever she must see upon turning back towards the water and the black city.

Those keeping an eye on the motionless Deep Ones saw them crouch, get down on all fours, and bow their heads. Hikari turned.

The fortress city called R’lyeh had ceased to rise. Many buildings were still partially submerged, but near the center of the vista a kind of foundation had emerged. All eyes were drawn to the great black throne that stood at the base of that sky-piercing Dark Tower, and to its occupant. A single subterranean boom shook the world as the awful form of Dagomon rose from its seat and drew itself up to its full height. Taking into account its distance from where they stood, the Thing had to be the largest Digimon they’d ever seen.

As Dagomon stepped forward into the sea and out of the fogbank that shrouded his city, they became able to discern more details of his features. Burning red eyes were set in an octopoid head whose tentacles twitched and swayed above a gaping maw of needle-sharp teeth. Tentacles were everywhere, forming even the frame for the bat-like wings sprouting from Dagomon’s back. The left arm – if it could be called an arm – was simply a bundle of them, squirming and pulsing, while the tentacles that might have made up the right arm were fused into a single thick limb. Incongruously, a chain of what looked like prayer beads hung upon the High Priest of Darkness’s shoulders.

For a long moment nothing moved but the titanic figure and the waves it raised at every step. The sight of Dagomon had paralyzed the Chosen Children and even the Digimon with horror. The stillness of Odaiba was only broken when Hikari began to scream.


	131. The Dark God's Advance

_“The Thing cannot be described – there is no language for such abysms of shrieking and immemorial lunacy, such eldritch contradictions of all matter, force, and cosmic order. A mountain walked or stumbled.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Call of Cthulhu”_

At first, no one had any idea what to do. Their towering adversary waded slowly landward. A noise reached them from across the water, a sort of vast, roaring hiss that seemed to echo in their brains as much as in their ears. The three Agents had turned to gape at Dagomon along with everyone else, but immediately after hearing that sound they remembered the Deep Ones, who resumed their advance and launched their black spears as if at a signal. One of the shafts Benjamin was unable to parry, and he cried out as it sliced through his sleeve and the skin of his arm.

“G-Gomamon, help Gennai-san and the rest!” Jou called out.

“R-Right…”

The brief exchange broke the spell. Several people moved or shouted at once.

“You too, Gabumon! All the Digimon that can’t evolve should help take those things out,” Yamato said, his voice rising above the others.

“What about us?” Lighdramon asked, sounding piqued at not being called to action.

“It’ll be bad if that thing reaches Odaiba,” Sora said. “Maybe if the Armor Digimon could hold it off…”

“We could fly out there…” Holsmon said, looking at Pegasmon.

“But I can’t,” Lighdramon finished.

“If I became Submarimon, I could attack from below, dagyaa,” Digmon suggested.

Pegasmon looked at the knot of figures gathered about Hikari. He knew that Tailmon would not want to leave her partner in this state. And Wormmon couldn’t evolve to Stingmon. Would just three Armor Digimon be enough to offer their gigantic enemy resistance?

Koshiro was wondering much the same thing. He wished that he’d thought to bring his Digimon Analyzer with him. If they knew the enemy’s evolutionary level they might be able to judge his strength, and knowing what attacks he had at his disposal might give them a strategic advantage. Koshiro couldn’t retrieve his laptop now, though. There were too many Deep Ones between him and Odaiba Mansion. He hoped his mother was safe in their ground-floor apartment. Thankfully he’d at least had her take the precaution of locking the door after he and Tentomon left.

By now Tentomon, along with Agumon, Piyomon, and Palmon, had joined in holding the Deep Ones at bay, their longer-ranged attacks providing needed support to the swords of the Agents. Meanwhile, many of the Chosen Children were unsure of just what to do. Those whose partners were fighting watched to make sure they would be alright, but only when they could tear their eyes away from the looming, pulsating Dagomon as he waded unhurriedly nearer. 

Much of Taichi’s attention was focused on his sister, but he had no idea what to do or say. No longer screaming, she knelt on the pavement, curled up, with eyes shut tight, though not tight enough to prevent tears of pure terror from escaping. He was at a loss. He’d never seen her like this, and it frightened him.

As once before, Miyako and Tailmon were at Hikari’s side, offering what support they could. This wasn’t much in Miyako’s case; her own fear was beginning to grow, and she could do little but lean over her friend with a worried expression, often glancing at the colossal figure on the horizon. But Tailmon put her paws on her partner and gently shook her, speaking low and urgently.

“Hikari. Hikari! Try to pull yourself together. Everyone needs your help! _I_ need your help. Please, don’t give up already, when the fight hasn’t even started.”

“I’m sorry, Tailmon,” Hikari whispered, her voice shaking. “I… I can’t. I’m so afraid…”

“When has this ever been about not being afraid?” Tailmon asked, raising her voice. “Weren’t we afraid before, in front of Vamdemon? And other enemies, too! We couldn’t let it stop us, because if we didn’t fight, then… then everything…”

“Can’t you feel it?” Hikari asked, her voice rising in turn. “It feels different. Can we even fight something like _it_?”

“Why not?” Tailmon demanded. _Hikari was so brave in the fight against Apocalymon,_ she was thinking to herself. _And he was so powerful, almost more than a Digimon. So why is this so different?_ A kind of despair began to settle over her as well, but now it was Hikari, and not the enemy, that worried her. “Hikari…”

“I’m sorry,” Hikari repeated. “I’m sorry I’m so weak. If I could have been strong like Onii-chan and the rest, then… maybe…”

A voice spoke. But it wasn’t Tailmon’s, it was Taichi’s.

“You’re not weak! What are you talking about?”

Hikari’s eyes snapped open in surprise. Her brother had stepped closer while she and Tailmon had been talking, and he’d caught part of the conversation. She looked up at him, wonderingly, the tears ceasing to run and standing still in her eyes.

“But… Onii—”

“Hikari, you’re one of the strongest people I know!” Taichi said. “You always put everyone else’s needs before yourself. If something’s wrong, you try to fix it without letting it worry anyone. You have the strength to do all that… so how can you say you’re weak?”

Hikari stared up at him as the words sank in. She had always cared deeply about earning her brother’s approval, so why was it that being berated at this moment lifted her spirits? In spite of everything, she suddenly felt better than she had for several days. He had told her she was strong.

Taichi saw the change come over her face, not yet understanding that for the first time he had revealed to her his assessment of her character, just as he’d once revealed it to Koshiro while he sat crying for her in a cathedral. Always she had seen herself as his inferior. Sometimes she’d even wondered if maybe he considered her someone not to be relied upon, unworthy of leading her fellow Chosen Children. Now he had expressed for the first time the depth of his admiration for her, and it filled her heart with joy.

Tailmon smiled. She saw her partner beginning to recover. “It’s what I’ve always told you,” she said softly.

“I’m sorry… everyone…” Hikari said, getting slowly to her feet. She kept her face averted from the water, though she sensed a tugging at her mind that seemed to emanate from that direction, too powerful to be imagination. “Don’t worry about me,” she said, speaking particularly to Tailmon. “We have to do what we can—” Her voice quavered. “—while there’s still time.”

It was what Tailmon had been waiting for. Raising her voice, she called to her fellow partner Digimon. “Everyone, we’re going to fight that thing now! We need to keep it from reaching this place if we can.”

“Wait!” Daisuke interjected. “How is Lighdramon supposed to get out there?”

For the last few minutes, Daisuke had been as concerned about Hikari as anyone. Like others, he had been surprised by her outburst, and deeply worried by it. And yet while some of them had turned to Hikari herself, his thoughts had turned to that monstrous Digimon that had so terrified her. Daisuke wanted a fight. Needed a fight. The Dark Man had denied him one, but he would forget all about that if he could face this other enemy that threatened Hikari-chan. Under no circumstances could he fail to protect her as he had failed to save Nat-chan.

As for Tailmon, she knew that there was no practical way for Daisuke’s partner to join the battle while Dagomon remained in the deep water, but also knew that Daisuke wouldn’t take kindly to hearing her say so. Fortunately, she knew what to say instead.

“I can’t take Hikari out there with me,” she told him. “It’s up to you and Lighdramon to protect her until I get back. Don’t let any of those things near her.”

She could see from his expression that he had mixed feelings about sitting out on the main battle, but knew he’d answer, “Alright!” before he actually said it. “You hear that, Lighdramon?” he added.

“…Right,” Lighdramon answered.

“I’m counting on you,” Tailmon told them. “Hikari! I need to Armor Evolve.”

Hikari half raised her D-3, but her hand was shaking. “Tailmon… I…”

“It’ll be okay, Hikari,” the little Digimon answered. “I will always come back to you. Please trust me!”

Hesitantly, Hikari nodded. “Alright. **Digimental Up!** ”

There was a flash of brilliant light against the grim grayness of the day, and when it faded Nefertimon stood where Tailmon had been.

“Let’s go, everyone!”

She leapt into the air, followed by Pegasmon and Holsmon, whose partners called out after them to be careful. Digmon reverted to Armadimon and looked at his partner. “Iori?”

“Alright…” Iori said. “But keep your distance until we know how strong that thing is. **Digimental Up!** ”

His evolution completed, Submarimon launched himself into the water where the Odaiba street abruptly ended, and as his winged companions flew towards Dagomon in formation, he sped through the dark waters in the same direction.

Dagomon took another step and then stopped to watch Nefertimon and the others approach, his glowering red eyes inscrutable. The three flying Digimon came in just above the level of their target’s nightmarish arms. The moment they had come within range the three of them unleashed their attacks without waiting to see what he would do.

**“Curse of Queen!”**   
**“Silver Blaze!”**   
**“Tempest Wing!”**

The attacks, so impressive under normal circumstances, appeared pitifully tiny against that vast wall of body. The beams of pink and the ray of green scorched the dark flesh but left no mark, while Holsmon’s tornado beat vainly against it a moment and faded.

A low, huge rumble filled the air. Gigantic though it was, it might have been only the sound of Dagomon’s exhalation. His wings moved a little as if in a shrug, and the wind generated by the casual movement drove his attackers back a little. The Chosen Children, who had been able to watch the Armor Digimon’s assault from Odaiba, each felt something stir darkly in their minds as that low growl swept over them, as if the reverberations had set their souls atremble.

The sea erupted where Dagomon’s body rose from it. Submarimon had launched his Oxygen Homing attack, but with no more effect than Pegasmon and the others had managed.

“Let’s try again,” Pegasmon urged. Flapping his wings he ascended to about the level of Dagomon’s head, then spread them wide. **“Shooting Star!”**

As Pegasmon’s projectiles rained down, the tentacles of Dagomon’s left arm went into motion, seeming to lengthen rapidly, shooting in all directions, some up towards Pegasmon and others at Nefertimon and Holsmon, who took evasive action.

**“Mach Impulse!”** Holsmon just had time to launch his attack before dodging, his energy blades severing one of the tentacles that had gone for Pegasmon like a striking snake. He danced between the pulpy cables and around Dagomon’s right side, hoping to get clear of the tentacles and attack from the enemy’s flank. And yet just when he thought himself out of immediate danger an entirely new tentacle shot out from the bundle and slammed down on his body, driving him down and into the water.

Up in the sky, a tentacle hit Pegasmon like a giant uppercut, knocking him head over hooves with a scream. Nefertimon dodged several of the onrushing tentacles, only to be knocked senseless by a careless flick of Dagomon’s huge right arm.

Having tossed his opponents about like so many toys, Dagomon resumed his walk towards Odaiba. The Chosen Children watched, aghast, the proximity of the Deep Ones forgotten. Takeru stood tense, and Miyako screamed for Holsmon, who as far as they could tell hadn’t resurfaced. Hikari hung her head.

“I knew it,” she murmured. “We can’t fight something like that.” A kind of calm had come over her, a numb despair that overrode even her concern for her partner.

Nefertimon and Pegasmon had recovered somewhat and taken up position once again between Dagomon and the shore. The dark god came on, unconcerned, as if he didn’t acknowledge their presence.

“What do we do?” Nefertimon asked her friend, but at the moment he had no answer for her. Dagomon took another gigantic step. Pegasmon spoke.

“If we destroyed that giant Dark Tower, do you think it would let us evolve normally?”

“Maybe,” Nefertimon said. “I don’t know.”

A series of underwater explosions blasted spray into the air as Submarimon let loose with a long volley of Oxygen Homing. It seemed a signal for the other Digimon to act.

“We have to try!” Pegasmon shouted, and shot as quickly as he could to the right side of the living mountain. Nefertimon, anticipating his strategy, flew to the left, hoping that their enemy would not be able to concentrate on both of them at once.

In fact, Dagomon did absolutely nothing to hinder them, only stopped walking, and they were soon behind him and heading as fast as they could for the black city on the horizon and the mile-high obelisk at its center. Dagomon paid them no heed, and appeared not to feel the impact of Submarimon’s missiles. Rather than counterattack, he lifted his arms, raising them above his head. The bundled tentacles writhed and lengthened, the huge right arm swayed slowly in the sky. To Hikari, who had looked up to see what would happen to her partner, those tentacles looked long enough to enwrap the world in their cold clutch.

A great cry filled the air – deep and shrill, loud and soft, all at once, heard with the ears and with the mind. Something like a great wind radiated from the gigantic figure, and all about it the sea exploded into huge waterspouts twisting like huge gray tentacles. The waters surged upwards and met over their master’s outstretched arms. The next moment they exploded, and sent four shining gold objects hurtling back towards Odaiba. They struck the surface of the sea, bounced like skipped stones, and after their momentum had dissipated and their glow faded floated like so many corpses not far from shore.

Slowly, Dagomon lowered his arms, and resumed his walk.


	132. Mental Struggle

_“…sending out at last, after cycles incalculable, the thoughts that spread fear to the dreams of the sensitive…” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Call of Cthulhu”_

“Gomamon!” Jou called.

Gomamon, like the rest of the Digimon with him, the Agents, and the Deep Ones, had paused in the midst of battle, arrested by Dagomon’s cataclysmic display of power. But Jou’s voice instantly snapped him out of it.

“Got it!” he replied. **“Marching Fishes!”**

At his cry, multicolored fish began to swarm in the waters around the four partner Digimon who floated, stunned, less than twenty meters from the place where the concrete of Odaiba abruptly ended. Rapidly they were borne back to land, the schools of fish leaping in a single body to deposit them on dry ground before vanishing.

As the fight between the Deep Ones and the Chosen Children’s defenders recommenced, Miyako, Iori, and Takeru ran forward to see to their partners. From Hikari’s expression, it seemed that she wanted to go to Tailmon as well, but could not bring herself to take a single step in the direction of the approaching horror.

As Dagomon waded towards them, the Chosen Children felt the weight of his gaze acutely for the first time. At first they thought it was only their combined fear and sense of hopelessness growing on them, but before long they had begun to realize that something more insidious was at work. To varying degrees, each felt something alien and malignant fumbling about in their minds, worming its way into their psyches, affecting their very thoughts. Even Daisuke, for whom the sensation was vaguest, knew it to be both unnatural and intentional.

As for Hikari, she had felt it all along. Ever since Dagomon had finally revealed himself she had sensed his inhuman intellect testing the defenses of her own, all-too-human mind. She knew that he had called to her before, on the shores of the Dark Ocean and in the abysses of her darkest nightmares. She clutched her head, despite knowing well that it could do no good.

This time she was not the only one. Many of her friends had instinctively done the same. Some gritted their teeth against the repulsive mental contact. They all sensed – some dimly and some acutely – the evil will directed against them, a malice as deep and cold and boundless as the sea.

“What the hell…?” Taichi wondered aloud.

“Something’s wrong with my…” Miyako began before faltering.

“I don’t like this!” Mimi exclaimed.

Other words born of fear and confusion came from other Chosen Children. Many started violently when Ken threw back his head and began to scream. Wormmon squirmed with concern as he stared up at his partner. “Ken-chan, are you okay? Hey!”

“What is it?” Jou asked of no one, digging his fingers into his scalp as if to root out the thing in his head.

“It’s _him!_ ” Hikari screamed, tottering as if about to lose her balance. “Everyone feels it this time!?”

“‘This time?’” Taichi asked, but got no response from his sister.

“Is this what Hikari-chan has felt before?” Miyako wondered. “It’s awful.”

“Hikari-san has felt this before?” Koshiro asked, having overheard in spite of his own discomfort. “Jou-san, this may be what we talked to Gennai-san about! A psychic enemy! Hikari-san would have felt it first because she’s psychic herself!”

“What does that mean?” Daisuke asked. He didn’t know what “psychic” was, but for some reason he had the impression that he’d heard the word before, and recently.

“It’s a power of the mind,” Koshiro explained. “That Digimon has it to an incredible degree.”

“Daisuke,” Lighdramon said, his eyes still fixed on Dagomon as the vast form loomed ever nearer. “Didn’t Shadramon use something like that?”

Daisuke blinked a moment, and then the memory came back to him. He’d heard that word on the day that Wendimon had trapped Ken and him in that wintry forest. Wormmon had used the Digimental of Courage to evolve to Shadramon, and the attack he’d used was called…

“Yeah, he used something called Psychic Wave,” Daisuke said. “I heard it in my head!”

Even with his hand pressed to his forehead and his teeth gritted against the invading sensation, Koshiro’s interest and curiosity showed in his expression. “How did it work?”

“It… brought us back from a world we’d been trapped in. I think,” Daisuke said. “Ichijouji could probably explain it better.”

“I wonder if it could counteract this mental attack,” Koshiro said. He glanced at Ken, who was now cowering much as Hikari had been, and at Wormmon at his side.

Daisuke understood. He walked quickly up to Ken and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Ken. Ken!”

Ken twisted his head around to look up at his friend, his facial features working as if in response to the dark thing delving into his brain.

“Hey!” Daisuke said, a stern note entering his voice. “Snap out of it! We need your help. Wormmon needs to evolve!”

With a visible effort, squeezing his eyes shut and reopening them, Ken said, “H-He can’t…”

“Yes he can, remember?” Daisuke said, pulling his D-Terminal from the pocket of his jacket and holding it out. Ken stared at it as if he’d forgot that such a thing as Armor Evolution existed. “Shadramon might be able to do something about that thing in our heads,” Daisuke explained. “Hurry. Say ‘Digimental Up!’”

“Let’s do it, Ken-chan,” Wormmon said. “Maybe it can help.”

Seeming to comprehend what was wanted of him – his terror was so strong that he couldn’t yet understand why it was wanted – Ken took the D-Terminal. “Di… **Digimental Up!** ”

Lighdramon reverted to V-mon as Wormmon began to glow. It seemed that only one of the D-Terminal’s Digimentals could be used at a time.

**“Wormmon, Armor Evolve!...Shadramon!”**

It was the first time that many of the Chosen Children had seen Wormmon’s evolution through the Digimental of Courage, but it was not the time for expressions of admiration. Shadramon rose vertically into the air on his flame-patterned wings. He hovered just over the heads of the Chosen Children, staring across the waves at the oncoming bulk of Dagomon, who, unopposed, had now gotten terribly close.

“I can sense something, Ken-chan,” Shadramon said. “I’ll try to stop it.” An aurora of purple light began to play about his body. **“Psychic Wave!”**

The purple glow began to fade, and yet the air all about Shadramon still seemed to shimmer, as if with ever-expanding ripples of not quite invisible force. In the seconds that followed, the Chosen Children began to breathe sighs of relief. The intensity of the nasty sensations in their minds began to fade.

Ken raised his face to look up at his partner. “Shadramon… Thank you! It—”

He stopped, and the smile that had begun to form on his face disappeared. Shadramon had begun acting strange. His form visibly shook. He had raised his arms in what might have been a defensive posture, and those on the ground heard him grunting as if making a great physical effort.

“Shadramon? What’s wrong?”

The purple aurora flickered transiently, but no attack followed. Shadramon’s wings quivered with involuntary little flaps. He began to lose altitude and sink back towards the concrete. He landed gracelessly beside Ken, his knees buckling immediately. The sounds he made began to sound more and more like expressions of pain.

As Koshiro watched, now entirely free of Dagomon’s baleful mental influence, a sudden idea came to him.

“I see!” he said. “Dagomon has focused his psychic powers on Shadramon. They’re having a mental battle! But…” He began to look worried. “Dagomon’s psychic abilities are incredible, powerful enough to spread dreams all over the world. Can Shadramon stand up to that kind of power?”

He seemed to get his answer when Shadramon began to scream.

“Shadramon, are you okay? Hold on!” Immediately the roles of Ken and his partner were reversed from what they had been a minute ago. Shadramon continued to visibly struggle, but Dagomon’s pace remained unaltered. The Chosen Children had to angle their heads upward now to see his red eyes, and it would not be much longer before he could reach them with his pulsating tentacles, or simply crush them as he set foot on Odaiba with whatever he had for lower limbs.

To Daisuke especially the stately pace of that approach was maddening. Dagomon knew that his enemies were all but helpless against him, and that he had no need for hurry. That confidence in inevitability infuriated Daisuke, not least because at the moment he himself couldn’t see any reason to doubt it. Something of that size and power had nothing to fear from Digimon that couldn’t evolve past the Adult level.

Daisuke looked at his partner. V-mon was shouting encouragement at Shadramon, but Daisuke knew that, like him, his partner was inwardly raging at his inability to put up a good fight. Even if he Armor Evolved, neither Fladramon nor Lighdramon, Kangaroomon nor Sagittarimon would have any hope of halting Dagomon’s advance.

“Damn it,” Taichi said, his thoughts apparently mirroring Daisuke’s. “We have to do something to stop that thing.”

“But what?” Sora asked.

“Ken’s partner won’t be able to fight like this,” said Jou.

“And Gabumon and the rest are still fighting those things,” said Yamato. “There’s no end to them!”

Hikari, her head bowed, still conscious of Dagomon’s mental contact in spite of Shadramon’s efforts, had by now moved to where her unconscious partner lay, her compassion only just overbalancing her reluctance to approach the sea. She cradled Tailmon, steadfastly refusing to look up.

“There’s nothing…” she said, in a low voice. “Nothing we can do.”

Takeru heard her as he stood nearby with Patamon in his arms, and clenched his teeth. For a moment he was angry at her, but that was unfair. If he felt angry, he should direct that anger at the thing that had reduced her to this state of despair. But even then…

The glare he’d been directing at Dagomon collapsed into an expression of self-reproach. What good did it do to be angry? In the past he’d come to feel ashamed of the times he’d lost his temper, like when he attacked Ken in his Kaiser persona. Maybe he deserved to be angry then, and to be angry now, and often, but looking back he could not point to a single instance in which his anger had accomplished anything. Not many hours ago it had nearly led him to take a human life, an act he would have regretted forever.

No, being angry would accomplish nothing. Dark emotions like hatred were what Dagomon used to achieve his ends. It didn’t matter that Takeru was a Chosen Child; his hatred would feed the darkness all the same. Yes. Something else was needed. But what? Other feelings? But what could any mere emotion do against the overwhelming power that threatened everyone?

There was only one way to find out. His friends were suffering no less than he was from doubt and fear. He couldn’t do much, but he could at least lend them his support. If it were possible to survive this horror, they only stood a chance if they stood together.

Hikari felt a hand on her shoulder, and looked up with a sad expression. “Takeru-kun?”

“It’s not over yet,” he told her, trying to put into his voice a confidence that he did not quite feel, and which some part of him felt to be foolish.

“But—” Hikari began.

“It’s not!” he interrupted her. “As long as we don’t give up, it’s not over. As long as we’re still here, and the Digimon are still here, there’s still a chance. It’s been this hopeless before, and we’ve always pulled through.” Strangely, as Takeru went on speaking, he found his speech beginning to convince himself of its truth. In a desperate effort to stoke this last spark of optimism, and to convey it somehow to the others, he raised his voice in a yell they could all hear. “Don’t give up, everyone!”

There was silence a moment, as some of the other Chosen Children turned their eyes towards him in surprise, or stood as if bewildered. Takeru had begun to believe his plea had failed, when Daisuke spoke up.

“No one said anything about giving up, Takeru!”

It wasn’t quite the truth, but Takeru leaped at the encouragement with an almost fevered excitement.

“V-mon is still ready to fight, right?” he asked.

“Of course!” V-mon answered.

Takeru was trying to think of what else he could say when he felt Patamon stir in his arm.

“Patamon?” Takeru said, temporarily forgetting his goal.

“Takeru… I can still fight, too… I’ll evolve again… and try…”

Takeru’s first instinct was to protest – how could Patamon think of fighting in this condition? – but he stopped himself. For Patamon, not giving up meant not quitting in his fight to protect his friends and partner. Whether he could actually evolve again so soon remained to be seen. He didn’t try yet, only marshaled his little strength and waited. For the moment, all he or anyone could do was wait, and try to hope.

Dagomon towered over them. The tentacles of his left arm began to lengthen, seemed even to multiply, snaking towards the tiny figures on the shore…


	133. That Last Hope

_“For they mean to eat me up, I know, these Titanic darknesses: and soon like whiff I shall pass away, and leave the world to them.” – M. P. Shiel,_ The Purple Cloud

At the center of a whirling cyclone of cloud floated Qinglongmon, his enormous body restlessly coiling with an agitation unusual in a being of such divine power. About him floated his many Digicores, the symbols of his godlike status, now fitfully flashing and darkening like so many warning lights. His comrades, the other Holy Beasts, likewise stood each at their corner of the Digital World, placing themselves in the role of the erased seals and the destroyed Holy Stones. If their strength were to waver an instant, it could mean the end of the Digital World in its current state. The darkness that had already assimilated the human world would begin to consume their world as well.

Qinglongmon had to maintain his concentration to prevent that from happening, but he allowed himself to wonder how the Chosen Children were faring against the enemy that must by now have finally shown itself. If they could not defeat this evil, then it was perhaps not an exaggeration to say that all would be lost.

Qinglongmon could not spare the energy required to ascertain what might be happening to the Chosen Children in the human world. The most he could do was judge the state of his Digicores, the spheres of Hope and Light, which bore some slight connection to the Chosen Children holding those Crests. What he read in those spheres did not much reassure him. The fight must be going against the Chosen Children, though they had not yet surrendered utterly.

A thought struck Qinglongmon then. There was a way in which he might aid them, but the risk of doing so would be great. He had no positive proof that it would be of any use to them. Qinglongmon was not one to make decisions quickly. He gave careful thought to every issue before any intervention. From the time this new idea came to him, several minutes passed before he decided whether or not to act upon it. In the end, the agitation of the spheres of Hope and Light decided him.

A misty golden glow appeared in the air before him, and began to coalesce. The process was slow. If he devoted too much of his attention to it, the Digital World might be compromised. Finally a glittering golden spark shot upwards and vanished.

The swirling clouds grew darker.

***

In another moment the innumerable tendrils of Dagomon’s left arm would have been among his enemies. But a blinding light burst into existence in the Chosen Children’s midst, and the tentacles hesitated, hovering in the air above their heads.

No one could have been more surprised by that brilliant gold explosion than the Chosen Children themselves. They had seen their end coming as the threat of capture by the dark god or death at his hands became imminent, but this sudden light had bought them another moment. What the light was they at first had no idea, though clearly it could not have been the work of Dagomon. Not far away, the Deep Ones froze in what may have been fright, giving their battered opponents time to strike once more before turning to see what was happening behind them.

Daisuke was the first to squint into the light’s point of origin and see the compact shape hanging motionless at its center. What it was doing here, he had no idea, but he did not hesitate in reaching out a hand to grasp it. Here was their salvation.

**“Digimental Up!”**

The light brightened, and for an instant the Chosen Children’s whole world seemed gold. Then the light had coalesced into a solid, man-sized shape, and Magnamon stood where V-mon had been, looking at his partner in evident surprise.

“Alright,” Daisuke said. “We can beat him now, can’t we?”

“…Right,” Magnamon said. He turned to face Dagomon, who looked down upon him with red eyes as inscrutable as ever. The twisting tentacles stopped, then shot into motion, extending and converging on this new opponent. “Here I go!” Magnamon yelled. “Get down, guys! **Plasma Shoot!** ”

Hatches on the golden Chrome Digizoid armor opened to fire their missiles, and almost immediately Magnamon was surrounded by explosions as his shots found their targets, blasting apart the tentacles they hit and unleashing a shockwave that shredded many of the rest. Magnamon shot upwards out of the chaos. With Dagomon so close to the Chosen Children, he had to end the battle as quickly as possible.

He stopped his ascent about level with Dagomon’s gaping maw, from which was issuing a booming hiss of what may have been anger. As Magnamon began to shine and to cross his arms, Dagomon’s gargantuan right limb rose. In another instant it would come slicing down with explosive force. But before that could happen, Magnamon unleashed his attack.

**“Extreme Jihad!”**

A sphere of golden energy, shining almost white in its intensity, formed with Magnamon at its center and began to expand outward. It continued to expand until Dagomon’s entire head and much of his chest had been engulfed. His right arm struck, and most of it likewise disappeared into the light.

_We did it,_ Daisuke thought. _A miracle... It’s over, Hikari-chan! Everyone!_

Gradually the light of the explosion began to fade. Magnamon’s attack had ended. Empty space gaped where Dagomon’s head had been, and what remained of the partly obliterated chain of prayer beads had dropped into the sea. Staring upwards, the other Chosen Children looked as joyous as Daisuke felt. Even Hikari managed a tentative, incredulous smile. Meanwhile, Shadramon felt the intolerable mental pressure he’d been fighting fade, and gratefully collapsed and reverted to Wormmon.

Magnamon turned around to face the group. At that distance, they couldn’t see that he was panting from the expenditure of energy, but they could see him pump one fist in a sign of victory. At any moment they expected to see the remainder of Dagomon’s immense body disintegrate into data.

But when something did begin to happen, they reacted with horror.

Dagomon’s bluish flesh began to squirm and ripple. Within the gaping chest cavity it molded itself into tendrils, twisting together, repairing the damage. Red eyes began to glow against the gray sky as the dark head began to reform. The lower jaw lolled horribly by itself for a moment as the tentacles of the face began to grow out of the seething chaos above it. The right arm began to return as a nest of tentacles sprouted from the right shoulder and, lengthening rapidly, wrapped themselves into one long appendage. Before many seconds had passed, Dagomon was whole once more.

As the Chosen Children stood frozen in despairing disbelief, Dagomon’s mental influence swept over them like a great wave. The resistance of Shadramon’s Psychic Wave had disappeared, and it seemed that the invasive power had redoubled in strength. Perhaps Dagomon was only now bringing his full strength to bear. Hikari dropped to her knees, screaming, and the rest of the Chosen Children’s reactions were little less violent.

Magnamon quickly turned to find his enemy’s red eyes once more blazing at him. Another of Dagomon’s alien, half-mental vocalizations filled the air, and Magnamon saw something begin to form in the space between those eyes – a rapidly growing orb of perfect blackness, bolts of pale blue energy arcing across its surface. Towards him it came, a physical manifestation of psychic power.

Magnamon dodged to one side, but quick as thought the orb had changed its trajectory and, moving faster than the eye could follow, had him at its center. He could only scream out as its energies blasted his body a thousand times in a second. His mind went completely blank, and he regained consciousness only when he hit the pavement. Wincing from the pain, he tried to rise but couldn’t, and found himself reverted to V-mon. The Chosen’s last miracle had failed to save them.

In the general confusion and chaos, no one had time to react before the gray water ahead of Dagomon erupted in a single, perfectly vertical geyser as tall as Dagomon himself. For a moment the roaring column remained, then the water fell away, crashing down upon the waves, and an object stood revealed where it had been.

It was a weapon – a three-pronged trident of dull silver, its points cruelly barbed and raised to the sky. Dagomon’s left arm reached out for it, the tentacles closing around it like the fingers of a hand. Quickly, but with a certain ceremonial air, the dark god lifted the trident and reversed its orientation. Then, enwrapping it several times with his huge right tentacle, he raised it above the group on the pavement, and thrust downward.

Yells arose from those who caught a glimpse of the onrushing weapon, but there was no time for any other reaction. The three barbs hit the pavement with a sound like an explosion, penetrating the concrete as easily as they might pierce flesh. Huge cracks tore through the street from the three points of impact, forming an irregular web, and what had been flat ground became rough, jagged terrain as great fragments tilted and shifted.

No one had been able to remain on their feet. The Chosen Children looked up through clouds of rising dust from where they had fallen, some of them thrown by the impact and slightly injured. The Agents and partner Digimon had also gone down. Several of the Deep Ones had fallen, but many of the surviving creatures had retreated during Magnamon’s brief battle and were now waiting at a distance, bowing again at their deity’s display of power.

At first stunned by the violence of the assault, some of the people and Digimon on the ground had just begun to stir when the towering trident began to shine with that light-blue radiance which some of them had begun to associate with the powers of the Dark Ocean. Rather than illuminating anything, that glow changed only the colors of the scene before it faded, leaving the world still darker than before.

In addition to the ongoing violation of their minds, the Chosen Children now began to experience difficulty moving. It was as if the intangible darkness somehow bound them. The curse emanating from Dagomon’s trident was like a poison curdling the atmosphere. The Digimon and Agents, also, had begun to feel the mental and physical effects of Dagomon’s presence and attack. Benjamin had lost his sword when the trident had hit, but neither Gennai nor Ilya could raise the weapons they had retained. Gennai knelt with his sword’s hilt in his hand and its point in the fragmented concrete, unable to stand. 

From high aloft, Dagomon’s gaze scanned the devastated ground. His right arm unwrapped itself from the trident’s shaft and raised itself above his head. Then it came down like the blow of a whip, blasting the rubble where the Agents and the Digimon who had been assisting them still lay. Pulverized concrete went flying, some of it raining down around the all but immobilized Chosen Children.

“Agumon…!” Taichi choked.

No voice reached the Chosen Children from the direction of the six elder Chosen’s partners. There was no telling whether or not Agumon, Gennai, and the rest had survived that titanic blow. Taichi and the others could only writhe in suspense as Dagomon’s invading will continued its assault. Mimi wept openly where she lay.

Of the younger Chosen Children’s partners, most were only half conscious, and could do nothing to resist the power of the trident. Dagomon made no move yet to attack them. They lay too close to their partners, and it was evident that Dagomon had no intention of killing the Chosen Children yet. He would continue to feed on their minds and souls, and there was no telling what else they would have to suffer through before the end came.

No one grasped the horror of the situation more clearly than Hikari. What she had experienced during her visits to the Dark World, even during her imprisonment in the monastery, would be as nothing compared to what was coming. Instinctively she still resisted Dagomon’s hideous mental violation, but it was hard. The struggle exhausted her. Part of her wanted to stop fighting – but even if she did give up the pain would continue… and never stop…

Was it any wonder that Sato Katsu had been insane? In this moment, she could almost have wished for death.


	134. Homeostasis

_“For this spiritual alchemy he had learned. He understood that force ultimately is everywhere one and the same; it is the motive behind that makes it good or evil; and his motive was entirely unselfish. He knew – provided he was not first robbed of self-control – how vicariously to absorb these evil radiations into himself and change them magically into his own good purposes.” – Algernon Blackwood, “A Psychical Invasion”_

A long minute crept by that Tailmon spent dragging her somewhat battered body across the pulverized concrete to where her partner lay. She could feel the dark thing crawling about inside her mind, but she resisted the disconcerting sensation and kept moving. Possibly being an Adult-level Digimon kept the trident’s power from paralyzing her. Patamon, who lay near the place Takeru had fallen, did not and perhaps could not stir. Takeru himself could only grunt and tremble, his outflung hands scrabbling weakly at the grit. When Tailmon had almost reached her goal he happened to turn his head. His anguished eyes fixed on his friend, and he softly groaned.

“Hikari-chan…”

A few seconds later Tailmon laid a gloved paw on Hikari’s arm, but got no response either of voice or movement. Hikari’s frame was rigid. Climbing laboriously to her partner’s shoulder, Tailmon saw that Hikari’s eyes were closed, her lips parted just enough to reveal her teeth. Still Tailmon could elicit no response.

The truth was that Hikari had withdrawn from the world. Though she still suffered from it, the invading will had retreated slightly, becoming what in physical pain might have been a deep ache. Dagomon was sure of her now. He could concentrate his attention on other targets, safe in the knowledge that he had broken her.

Her sensations regarding what was happening outside herself were vague. She could hear Tailmon call her name, but could not find the will to answer. Without consciously trying to, she had begun to shut everything out. Unhappy and uncomfortable, she nonetheless felt inclined to welcome the contrast between her current state and her former tortured hypersensitivity. Someone besides Tailmon seemed to be speaking to her as well, but she could not make out the words or identify who it might be.

Best not to think. Losing all feeling remained her last defense.

_Hikari-san…_

Whose voice was that? It didn’t sound like anyone she knew. For now she made no attempt to discover who it might be. She was too exhausted.

And yet whoever it was, the person persisted. Though that little voice seemed lost in the welter of black waves and the roaring of storm-winds, it continued to call to her. For reasons she could not explain, a great sympathy stirred deep within her in response to that voice.

_Who are you?_ she asked it at last. _Where are you? I can’t see you. I can’t find you._

_I’m here. I’ve been with you a long time now._

The voice seemed somewhat clearer now. It was a girl, Hikari decided. A little girl, alone somewhere out in all that darkness.

_I still can’t see,_ Hikari told her. _Please tell me if there’s any way I can help you._

_We must help each other._

A little white glow appeared and began to grow out of the dark. The faintest hint of warmth began to return to Hikari, and before long she found herself in the midst of that light, which had turned pinkish now that it had engulfed her. She realized that it was her mind’s eye that saw this – her body actually remained on the broken ground with eyes closed. It was only somewhere inside that she stood in an open, illuminated space, all the more clammy for its trace of warmth, with someone else standing before her.

Here, she knew, was the source of that voice, and also of that white light, which had a definite shape now. As she had thought, it was a little girl. Her whole body shone a pure white – so pure, in fact, that nothing beyond her shape could be distinguished except for the features of her face, with its clear, open eyes, a suggestion of bangs, and a mouth whose solemnity was tempered by the slightest trace of a smile.

For the most part, Hikari was beyond feeling astonishment at anything, and yet she could not restrain an expression of wonder as she recognized the girl as herself as she had been at the age of eight, the time of her first visit to the Digital World.

“You heard me,” the girl said softly. She sounded glad.

“Yes, but… who are you?” Hikari answered. “Are you… me?”

The girl closed her eyes and gave a gentle shake of her head. “No,” she said. “I have no shape of my own, so I have borrowed yours. It is easier to talk to someone that you can see.”

Hikari nodded, though she still looked confused. “What is your name?” she asked.

“I could be called Homeostasis,” the little girl answered. “It means balance. We’ve met once before, but I don’t know if you remember.”

Hikari cast around in her memories. She did have a vague sensation that something like this had happened before. “It was… on Spiral Mountain, right?”

“Yes,” said the being called Homeostasis. “Of the Chosen Children, you were the only one who could hear me. I asked you to open your heart to me, so that I could use you to communicate how the Chosen Children came to be.”

“You chose us?” Hikari asked.

“Yes. It’s starting to come back to you.”

“Then, are you also the one who chose Sato Katsu-san and his friends?”

Homeostasis’ smile faded. “Yes,” she said. “They were the first Chosen Children. They were brought to the Digital World when something emerged from the World of Darkness and disrupted the balance that it is our job to maintain.”

“What… happened?” Hikari asked, a little hesitantly.

“In the end they succeeded,” Homeostasis said, “but during their last battle one of the Chosen Children was separated from the others and must have been lost in the World of Darkness. The others returned to their world, and disappeared.”

There was a moment’s silence.

“The next time that we needed Chosen Children, we were determined not to repeat our mistakes. Still, I have to apologize to you. After we had used your body, I decided to stay behind, hidden in your heart, without telling you. Several times this allowed me to help when you and the other Chosen Children were in danger, but I had also made you a target.”

With a look that may have been apprehensive, Homeostasis turned slightly, her eyes moving from Hikari to something off to the side. When Hikari also turned to see what the other was looking at, she went rigid, with a sharp intake of breath.

In the midst of the pinkish light stood a great double door of gold, about which darkness clung. Oozing through the crack between the doors were tentacles of blue-black shadow, spreading outward across the doors’ surface like the roots of a tree. Occasionally the doors shook or trembled, as if something huge on the other side were trying to force its way in. Hikari realized that it was from the huge door, or rather from what was behind it, that the chill and damp emanated. A familiar sensation of evil and horror seeped from those gripping tentacles.

“Dagomon,” Hikari whispered.

“It has been trying to enter this place,” said Homeostasis. “It has sensed that there is something within you that opposes it, but which might be turned to its advantage.”

“You mean… you?” Hikari asked.

The other nodded.

“If it succeeds in breaking through to us,” Homeostasis said, “it may not only destroy you, but also the seed of light that you carry. This could make its victory complete.”

“No…” Hikari murmured, sinking slowly to the floor.

“However,” Homeostasis told her, “it is still possible to prevent that from happening. Alone, neither of us could do it, but, with your help, I may be able to strike back against it.”

“But what can I do?” Hikari asked. “How can I fight against something like that?”

Homeostasis walked over to where Hikari knelt.

“You are not as weak as you think,” she said as she approached. “You have a power similar to the one we face. It’s true that yours is not as great – on its own. But you are not alone.”

Hikari raised her face to meet the gaze of her younger self. Homeostasis was smiling.

“They told you, remember?” Homeostasis said. “Tailmon, Taichi-san, and your other friends. They told you that you were strong, and that even when your strength was not enough they were there for you. It’s up to you, now, to believe them.”

The pulsing shadow arms continued to slowly lengthen. The golden door shuddered. Hikari shuddered as well.

“I want to,” she said. “But against something like that… Will even all of us be enough?”

“I believe that it’s possible,” Homeostasis said, casting a somewhat nervous glance toward the door. “I know this won’t be easy, but you have to let it in.”

“No…” Hikari said.

“If all that you do is hide from it,” Homeostasis said, “then there is no way to fight it. But if you can believe in yourself and your friends, and have the courage to face this thing, then with our combined powers we can counterattack.”

“I can’t,” Hikari said. Her eyes were on the door and that which was forcing its way through.

“It’s the only way,” Homeostasis said, a trace of sadness creeping into her voice.

Hikari could make no reply. She knew, of course, that it was indeed the only way, the only chance that she and her friends had. But could she do it? Could she possibly bring herself to face her every fear head on? The thought of throwing open that door and letting those mental tentacles penetrate to the core of her being froze her completely. Once the door opened, wouldn’t the horror consume her before she could muster the will to fight? Already she felt like curling up and surrendering to despair.

Her head drooped. She squeezed her eyes shut and grappled with herself.

“Hikari.”

The voice was as faint as the Homeostasis’ had been when first heard, but Hikari recognized it as Tailmon’s. It was Tailmon’s voice coming from outside, from the place where Hikari’s real body lay catatonic on the concrete.

“Hikari!”

Hikari heard it more clearly now. She was in two places at once, without and within, and in one of those places her partner was shaking her shoulder and calling her name, terrified by the girl’s lack of response. Hikari felt touched that amidst the manifold horror of the group’s situation it was her wellbeing that concerned Tailmon almost to the exclusion of all else. Hikari knew that that was so. She could sense, somehow, her Digimon’s feelings, with a certainty that surprised her.

It might have been only her imagination, but as she remained motionless, aware of a world outside and a world inside herself, she thought she could hear other things besides Tailmon’s voice. But “hearing” wasn’t quite the right word. It was more accurate to say she thought she _sensed_ things.

Now that her intimate rapport with Tailmon had made her cognizant of them, she tried to focus on these impressions as the moments slipped past. With intense concentration, she found herself “hearing” certain things more clearly, just as she had once “heard” the shattering words of unknown significance in her dreams of the dark city R’lyeh. Could they be thoughts?

Most vividly she sensed something emanating from Takeru. Although she couldn’t see it, he still lay beside her where he had fallen, and his thoughts as they kept returning to her she could detect the most easily. She found herself in the thoughts of others, too, more distant from her spatially but not out of reach of psychic contact. Her brother was worried about her, and several of her friends turned their thoughts her way in the midst of their struggles. And as time went on, she began also to sense feelings that were unconnected to her. She sensed the pain and fear of her fellow Chosen Children, and the despair that threatened to engulf them.

Yet their negative emotions were not hers, and, strangely, rather than overwhelming her they gave her a kind of courage. She was not the only one suffering. The people she cared for, and who cared for her, were suffering. They were fighting, too, which was more than she could say of herself at the moment. She longed to help them, to fight with them, to share the collective burden. If only there were some way that they could resist together this huge, dark thing that was inimical to all they had ever loved.

“Hikari-san!”

Homeostasis’ voice – the borrowed voice of Hikari’s younger self – cut suddenly through her thoughts, raised with more emotion than the digital being had yet expressed. Hikari’s eyes – the eyes of her inner self – snapped open, and she looked up to see the golden door buckling under the assault of the darkness. In just a few more seconds Dagomon would achieve his triumph.

Hikari shot a look to Homeostasis. Their eyes met, and she could see that she was understood. She turned quickly back to the door, and held out her trembling arms at full length.

“Everyone!” she cried.

From Homeostasis there came an explosion of white light, and the golden doors flew open to the waiting dark.


	135. Holy Light

_“And there was a firmament again, and a wind, and a glare of purple light… There were gods and presences and wills; beauty and evil, and the shrieking of noxious night robbed of its prey.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Dream-Quest of Unknown Kadath”_

They all felt it at once. Where there had been one will not their own within them, now there were two. Something cut through the creeping pall that had fallen over their minds. It did not disperse Dagomon’s influence, but they felt as if something had come to their aid, something that would shield them if it could. And the instant afterward, each distinctly heard Hikari calling to them.

None heard more clearly than Tailmon. To her the cry was so vivid that she glanced immediately at her partner’s face, but Hikari’s eyes were still closed, and her expression remained blank and unconscious. But Tailmon didn’t have long to take in the seeming contradiction. The next moment something else had hit her, still more emphatically. A surge of energy swept through her body, clearing away the fatigue of her battle and the pain of the many injuries she had sustained, and she felt the trident’s power to restrict her movements weaken.

It was then that Hikari’s eyes opened. Far above her, Dagomon’s own red eyes narrowed. With a tug he freed the barbed points of his trident from the surface of Odaiba, then stood motionless, watching intently.

Hikari got slowly to her feet, one hand resting reassuringly a moment on her amazed partner’s back. Around them Hikari’s fellow Chosen Children had quietened as the emanations of their friend’s mind, augmented by the power of the Homeostasis within her, took the edge from Dagomon’s mental influence. Hikari could still sense the thoughts and feelings of her friends. She could sense also the measure of relief that she had managed to bring them. Their presence, both mental and physical, gave her the courage to raise her eyes to the dark form towering above them. She still shook slightly under the regard of the burning eyes – she knew that they were focused on her alone now – but she did not look away.

A light, pink in color, had begun to emanate from her, faintly at first but growing in intensity as the moments passed.

With a quick movement, Dagomon’s tentacles shifted their grip on the trident and prepared to strike again.

“Hikari!”

Tailmon, her strength restored, leapt into the air as if to somehow shield her partner from the onrushing attack. In that moment the pink light exploded. Its rays bent, converged on the little white Digimon, and were absorbed. The great trident stopped in the midst of its rush as for the first time Dagomon took a step backward, as if dazzled by the burst. The ocean’s dark waves rippled and frothed as a sphere of bright pink rose higher into the air, radiating great beams of light.

**“Tailmon, Warp Evolve…Holydramon!”**

Hikari and several of her friends had seen once before, in America, the form that now hovered in the sky above them. Though nowhere near as gigantic as Dagomon, it was large for a partner Digimon – a maned dragon, with light pink fur and ten shining wings. Even after the evolution had ended a glowing aura clung to her, Tailmon’s final form.

By now many of the other Chosen Children had also risen from where they lay. Dagomon’s mental assault had ebbed away like a receding tide as his concentration centered on this new and unexpected opponent, and some measure of strength had returned to his human victims.

Taichi had been going to rejoin his sister and friends when the sight of Holydramon had arrested him with awe. “This is Hikari’s…” he whispered.

“Hikari-chan?”

Hikari turned to look at Takeru, who now stood beside her, holding Patamon.

“I’m going to fight,” she said, “thanks to you and everyone. There’s no point in hiding anymore.” She managed a smile, then turned back, her head tilted so that she could see Holydramon and Dagomon confronting each other. A solemn expression replaced the smile. “We’re going to destroy that thing – for us, and for all the Digimon that have been hurt. And for the Chosen Children.”

Takeru nodded. And yet a part of him could not fully enter into Hikari’s frame of mind. He knew which group of Chosen Children she meant, and he knew she meant all of them.

Dagomon’s huge right arm wrapped more tightly around his weapon, and with blinding speed he thrust it at Holydramon. A clang rang out over the island. The claws of Holydramon’s arms had stopped Dagomon’s attack. For several seconds the two opponents matched their strengths against each other, Dagomon trying to overcome the claws and impale his target. The trident glowed blue, crackled with electricity, but the phenomena faded without effect. Still, it seemed that Dagomon’s superior physical strength might prevail in the end.

Suddenly Holydramon went into motion. The points of the trident shot past her, ringing on her claws. With a lithe, rapid motion she circled in the air. Her mouth opened, and between her jaws a sphere of greenish light formed.

**“Holy Flame!”**

The sphere became a flaming spiral. Coiling through the air, it began to melt whatever parts of the trident it made contact with. As Dagomon dropped his blunted weapon, the tornado of holy fire tore right through one of his grotesque wings and continued on its way, only stopping when it struck the enormous Dark Tower on the horizon and exploded in a great cross of white light. When the light faded, those on the shore could see that the tower had begun to fall.

Dagomon uttered a sibilant roar of rage. As the reddish tentacles of the destroyed wing began to regenerate and lengthen, another black sphere of mental energy appeared in the air before him. But instead of growing like before, it remained at its original size, and it did not advance. Hikari, watching from below, realized with exultation that her powers and the powers of the Homeostasis were working. Drawing strength from the bonds between the twelve friends, a new psychic power had arisen, great enough to rival Dagomon’s own.

The next moment, her excitement faded somewhat. Dagomon’s attack had failed, but his destroyed wing had now fully reformed itself. If that monstrosity continued to recover from every injury, how could they hope to destroy him?

Dagomon slashed at Holydramon with his right arm. She avoided the blow without difficulty, but the tentacles of Dagomon’s left arm were also in motion, and were waiting for her when she dodged. Like an army of vipers they struck, from all directions, and though Holydramon avoided some, bit through one, and shredded others with the claws of her four limbs, the tentacles continued to multiply and lengthen, and in the end she could not help but be ensnared by over half a dozen of them. Her ten wings flapped, and her serpentine body writhed and twisted, but it was no use. She was held fast.

Her mouth opened, and another sphere of holy energy began to accumulate. But before she could launch it as a Holy Flame, Dagomon’s right arm slammed into the side of her head with all its force. She cried out, and the light was extinguished as her jaws snapped shut.

“Holydramon!”

At her partner’s voice Holydramon made another heaving twist, but the tentacles had begun to constrict, slowly squeezing the breath and strength out of her. “Hikari…”

“Don’t give up!” Hikari called.

And as she did a strange thing happened. The other Chosen Children felt something bright and clean cry out again in their minds. For a moment there existed among them a clarity of understanding, a perfection of purpose. United by the emanations of Hikari’s mind, her inner light, finally taking its stand and refusing to fade before the onslaughts of despair, reproduced itself in them. It stoked the fires of their own hopes, their common desire to end this invasion from the darkness and to defend each other and those things they all lived for. Their sympathy rebounded, and Hikari felt it. The partner Digimon, whether conscious or unconscious, felt it too. Holydramon felt it.

“We won’t give up… Hikari…” Holydramon said. Her voice sounded weak, but there was conviction in it. As she spoke the glow of her aura brightened perceptibly. “I will stop this evil… if it’s the last thing I do… Everyone’s light…”

Suddenly, above the two struggling titans, those on the ground saw a flash of brilliant white light. From its center fell a beam like the tail of a meteor. The ocean’s surface exploded where it landed, and when the spray cleared the Chosen Children saw Holydramon flying free once more, the severed tentacles falling from her. Dagomon’s left arm had been shorn entirely off just short of the chains bundling it together.

“I don’t know what will happen, Hikari,” Holydramon said. “Forgive me if…”

“What do you mean?” Hikari asked.

“Don’t worry,” her partner answered. “I promise that this is still only the beginning for us.”

Shining still brighter, Holydramon shot upwards into the sky. Dagomon roared, his right arm extending, shooting upwards at bullet-train speed, but it was not quick enough.

**“Apocalypse!”**

A constellation of white flashes exploded in the sky high above Dagomon. The shining beams rained down relentlessly as Holydramon’s light strengthened and whitened until her features could no longer be made out. The meteoric rays blasted through Dagomon’s membranous wings, chains, tentacles, and body, erupting in radiant domes of force wherever they landed. The Dark Ocean became a seething chaos, and over the Chosen Children the ripples of the holy apocalypse washed harmlessly.

For nearly a full minute the barrage continued, blotting out completely even the mountainous form of Dagomon. Unseen within that maelstrom of light and water the High Priest of Darkness regenerated each fragment of his body a thousand times, and a thousand times they were again vaporized. No other sound could be heard above the concussions of the holy beams, but in the minds of all present something that was not sound began to rise – a hissing bellow of rage and hatred, growing louder and louder, and then slowly fading away into nothingness.

Finally, the rain of light rays came to an end, and a profound silence fell over the world. Those who had watched the battle were too much in awe at first to react. Then all eyes turned aloft to Holydramon, still shining pure white in the gray sky. Slowly and noiselessly she had begun to descend, and as she fell her shape changed and shrunk. Hikari, remembering Holydramon’s words and feeling a vague apprehension, ran to catch her partner. A tiny round form dropped into Hikari’s arms. The glow faded, and she recognized the unconscious Digimon as Nyaromon, one of Tailmon’s Baby forms.

By now the other Chosen Children were looking about them, the older ones seeking for signs of the partner Digimon they’d lost track of when the trident had struck, and they were the first ones to notice the change coming over the landscape.

From the distant horizon rumbling could be heard, and the ground beneath everyone’s feet vibrated a little. The dark city of R’lyeh had begun to sink, its black buildings crumbling as it did so. A change came slowly over the sky and waves – hints of blue returned to the grayness. The day – and it felt like a true day now – began to regain its brightness. Yamato called to the others as he spotted the motionless forms of Digimon and Agents lying a ways off, and Miyako, holding Hawkmon, gave a louder exclamation as the other half of Odaiba started fading back into existence. A clear line could be made out where the blasted concrete on which they all stood met the perfectly untouched surface of the reappearing pavement.

Of the Deep Ones there was no sign. None of the Chosen Children had seen them go. Perhaps, their god defeated, they had been drawn by the ebbtide of the dark powers back into their ocean realm. Perhaps they had only been creations of their master, and without him had ceased to exist.

For the moment, all that mattered was the Chosen Children’s dawning realization that somehow they had managed to win, and that the long nightmare appeared to be over. Hikari only dared to believe it when, after several minutes of anxious watching, she saw Nyaromon’s eyes partially open, and the little Digimon’s mouth manage a smile.

Hikari smiled back. Tears of joy moistened her eyes. Then suddenly she raised her head and looked about her. Nyaromon gave no indication of having heard, but Hikari had thought a little girl’s voice had spoken from somewhere nearby.

_Thank you, Hikari-san._


	136. Change

_“I…talked long and earnestly with government officials… With the main result of these colloquies the public is now familiar.” – H. P. Lovecraft, “The Shadow Over Innsmouth”_

The cloud-strewn sky was a limpid blue. Odaiba, and Tokyo in general, was enjoying a peaceful, normal afternoon. Over a week had passed since the defeat of Dagomon, and the global confusion had subsided – to an extent.

All told, the assault on the world had not been as devastating as the Chosen Children had initially feared, but deaths and collateral damage had certainly occurred. Most of this had been the result of the world’s electronics failing as the powers of darkness overran them. Conflict with the Deep Ones and other creatures of the Dark Ocean had done some harm as well, but the invaders’ focus on the world’s Chosen Children had limited the number of casualties.

From the Digital World, the Holy Beasts reported that the immediate threat the dark powers posed to the universe seemed to be past. Their fight to prevent the World of Darkness from overflowing into the Digital World had been hard-fought, but ultimately a success. The pressing darkness had faded away at what must have been the moment the Chosen Children had finally eradicated their enemy.

A strange thing had happened at about the same time. Throughout the Digital World, the many Dark Towers remaining from the time of the younger Chosen Children’s capture had suddenly shattered into fine rubble – crumbled into black dust to be dispersed by the wind. The group of Cyclomon that had kept the Village of Beginnings isolated for two days had dispersed soon after, as if the collapse of the sinister monoliths had signaled to them that their masters’ authority had come to an end. Leaderless, the enemy’s remaining forces appeared to be in total disarray.

Unfortunately, the future stability of the Digital World remained a concern. It would take time for its defenses to recover from the destruction of the Holy Stones and the erasure of the great seals. But there was reason to remain cautiously hopeful. The Seeds of Light continued to mature, and with the destruction of Dagomon, the apparent destruction of Demon, and the death of Sato Katsu – with its resulting dispersal of his Dark familiar – all known enemies capable of mounting a large-scale campaign had been dealt with.

For the twelve Chosen Children who had participated in the final battle of Odaiba, life had more or less returned to normal. Looking back on the events leading immediately up to it, they could hardly believe that only a single hellish week had passed since the night on which the Dark Man first revealed himself to Ken. For those six Chosen Children in particular whose week of daily battles and nightly horrors had culminated in imprisonment and torture, full recovery would take time.

But in spite of all the pain, there were things to be thankful for. They had been reunited with families that they had once despaired of ever seeing again. Life’s simple pleasures shone all the brighter for the shadows that had for a while engulfed them. Physically, they began to regain their strength, and enjoyed the first restful nights they’d experienced in what seemed an eternity. At times they still had dreams, vague echoes of things undergone – but they were only dreams, and in the light of morning they faded quickly.

***

On that afternoon, Koshiro returned to his Odaiba Mansion apartment to find Gennai online and waiting to talk.

 _Was there something you had to tell me, Gennai-san?_ Koshiro asked after the usual pleasantries had been exchanged.

_Gennai: Yes, there is. First of all, have any of you noticed anything suspicious in the Real World since the battle?_

Koshiro felt a twinge of apprehension at the question. Did Gennai have reason to expect further trouble? But Koshiro’s answer came readily enough.

_Koshiro: We’ve seen no sign of the enemy. The police are still looking for those responsible for the bombing, but they haven’t found anything yet. According to friends who have hacked into government communications, it appears that there are several leads being followed, but the investigation is progressing slowly._

He went ahead and sent that as a message, then immediately began another one.

_Koshiro: We personally haven’t noticed anything that might point to the activity of Sato Katsu-san’s human allies. With the destruction of their base, we can’t be sure that there are any left. Mimi-san is safely back in America, and she doesn’t have anything to report either._

_Gennai: Thank you. Is there anything else I should know about?_

Koshiro smiled.

_Koshiro: Yes, actually. Thank you for reminding me. The others and I have finished telling Ichijouji-kun what we know about Ryo-kun and the Millenniumon incidents. Daisuke-kun, Miyako-kun, and Iori-kun know now as well._

Shortly after Ken’s return to the human world, Koshiro had worked up the resolve to share with him what the older Chosen Children knew to have happened to Ken before his time as the Kaiser and the resulting amnesia. First, though, he had felt the need to apologize for neglecting his duty for so long. His recent nightmare and his subsequent talk with Gennai had decided him.

To Koshiro’s surprise, when he approached Ken he found that Ken was not entirely uninformed. It seemed that while trapped in the Dark World Ken had been reminded of Ryo and Millenniumon through the Dark Man. Upon returning to his own world, reunited with his partner, he had acted on the Dark One’s suggestion of asking Wormmon about his forgotten past.

_Gennai: I see. Has he begun to regain his memories at all?_

The remnants of Koshiro’s smile faded, replaced by a thoughtful look as he typed out his response.

_Koshiro: He believes some of it has started to come back to him, but at the moment it’s not looking hopeful that he’ll regain them all naturally._

Koshiro had soon hit on the idea of using the psychic abilities of Shadramon, which he thought would be an intriguing subject for research, to aid in Ken’s recovering his memories, if possible – a sort of therapy. He had shared the idea, but for the moment Ken’s response was noncommittal.

_Gennai: I’m sorry to hear that._

There came a brief pause.

_Gennai: Now, there was something else I wanted to talk about as well._

For a moment that was all he said. Koshiro waited, refraining from prompting his correspondent.

_Gennai: Things will most likely be changing from here on. You’ll remember that after the events of August 1999, when the Digital World was seen in the sky of your world, and Digimon were seen in various countries, the other Agents and I spent some time manipulating and erasing data gathered at the time by human governments and scientists._

_Koshiro: Yes, I remember._

_Gennai: Since the events that affected the Real World last December, we’ve been considering a change in tactic. As you know, the recent attacks caught us off guard. We can’t afford to have that happen again. Meanwhile the number of Chosen Children continues to grow. We’ve made some decisions based on these facts. First of all, we must work to prepare these Chosen Children for the next crisis, so that you and your friends are no longer alone. Secondly, we believe the time has come to begin reaching out to humanity as a whole._

Koshiro reread the last line or two of the message. Quickly his mind flashed over what such a policy could mean, and what the possible ramifications might be. In that moment, he almost felt as if once more a new world had dawned upon his understanding. He suddenly felt the same excitement and trepidation that had come over him four years ago when he had discovered what the Digital World was.

Since Gennai sent nothing more for the moment, Koshiro collected his thoughts and managed to frame a reply.

_Koshiro: I see… Could you explain further?_

_Gennai: A plan is still being put together. Our main concern will be contacting certain government organizations, both in Japan and other countries, and helping them to understand the situation. If all goes well, we can begin to put strategies into place for dealing with any future crises._

_Koshiro didn’t reply for a minute. He thought about what his place and the place of his friends would be in this new world. And the more he thought about it, the more he got the sense that the current situation, instead of representing the end of the Chosen Children’s labors, might be only the calm before a storm._

_Koshiro: Theoretically, it sounds like a good plan, Gennai-san. However, there may be negative consequences for doing this. If an organization you contact were to try and make use of its new knowledge of the Digital World for selfish ends, disaster could strike._

_Gennai: Yes. That is why we have hesitated in the past. At this point, however, it is only a matter of time before human researchers begin to uncover the Digital World, and the growing number of Chosen Children may eventually cause problems. Due to recent events, people all over the world have begun looking into the Digimon – not only governments and scientists, but other groups and all sorts of individuals as well. We cannot completely stop the flow of information, but it may just be possible to control it and direct it for the greater good._

_Koshiro: What are your current plans?_

_Gennai: Nothing is definite yet, but we hope to act soon. The government of Japan is likely to be contacted first. This could mean great changes for you and the others, but I’m afraid it must be done. I should tell you that certain government agencies have already taken an interest in you and your friends._

Though he couldn’t deny that it made him uncomfortable, Koshiro didn’t consider the disclosure all that surprising. It was almost bound to happen given what the Chosen Children had recently gotten into. For that matter, Sora’s father and Yamato and Takeru’s parents were already well known to the media as the “Digimon critics.” It wouldn’t take a genius to guess where their insider information came from.

_Koshiro: I will let the others know about all this. Please keep us informed. Given that this could greatly affect us, I’m sure we would all appreciate being able to voice our opinions on the subject._

_Gennai: Of course. I’ll contact you again as soon as anything is known._

After their conversation had ended, Koshiro sat back in his chair for some time, gazing out the window behind his computer screen. Everything seemed so still. There was nothing to indicate that he and his friends might be about to set out on a new adventure, probably very different from those that had come before.

In his house in the Digital World, Gennai likewise remained silent and thought for a moment. He had much to think about. For the moment the battle was over – the information provided by Hikari and the other Chosen Children who had been held captive in the Dark World had cleared up nearly all remaining questions. The Holy Beasts had finally learned the fate of their forgotten partners, and, though gods, had expressed their regret at the news, and the regret that the names and faces of their partners remained lost to them. They could not even remember whose partner the terrible, unfortunate Sato Katsu had been – but perhaps that was for the best.

Yes, the battle was over. But the work was just beginning. Gennai and the others could only guess at what the new policy’s ramifications might be. There were interesting times ahead.


	137. Regrets

_“As well regret the things that the tide has washed away, which destroys and cleanses and crumbles, and spares the minutest shells.” – Lord Dunsany_

As Koshiro was in the midst of his conversation with Gennai, another of the Chosen Children – Iori – arrived at Odaiba Mansion. He had made plans to meet with Takeru and the others later that day – just to hang out, eat at a restaurant together, and have some fun – but that was not the reason he had come.

Though there wasn’t anyone among them who didn’t wish that the recent tragedies and battles had never happened, the group’s ordeals had at least had the welcome effect of drawing them together again. Without a cause to unite them, they had drifted apart in the months since BelialVamdemon’s defeat, but the darkness that had come and passed this summer had reminded them of all the small, bright things that they had begun to take for granted. Time spent with family members, a night’s restful sleep, good food, and friendship, both with their fellow Chosen Children and with their other classmates – all these things had assumed a new significance after what had gone by.

Iori was at Odaiba Mansion that afternoon for the sake of one of these brightnesses, though in a way it pained him as much as it comforted him. He considered the visit a pleasure, but also a duty, one he had already performed more than once before. He was here to see Chiho.

In some respects, her recovery from Panimon’s attack was progressing well, but this was primarily thanks to her apparent inability to remember the events of that terrible night. For the most part Iori and Chiho’s parents accepted this as a kind of blessing, and yet nothing could have been clearer testimony of the intensity of the trauma the poor girl had undergone.

Mrs. Ugaki let Iori into the apartment. Chiho was there waiting for him in the living room. The door to her bedroom remained closed. Since her return from the hospital, she’d been sleeping on a futon in her parents’ room while the damage to her own room was being repaired. She’d yet to set foot again into the place where the assault had occurred. Perhaps, in spite of her amnesia, her subconscious associated the place with horror.

“Hi, Iori-kun,” Chiho said, smiling up at him as he approached the couch on which she was seated.

“Hi, Chiho-chan,” Iori said as he sat down beside her. He returned her smile, a little sadly. As always, he was glad to see her, but he always felt an emotional twinge on these visits. Fairly or unfairly, he still blamed himself in part for what had happened to his girlfriend. Though he told himself it was irrational, he kept thinking back to the events of that week and thinking that if he’d only paid more attention to her, done something differently, or worked harder to stop what was happening in Tokyo, things might have been different. If he had realized that he and the others were under surveillance, and had warned her not to try and visit him as she had done the day before the assault, maybe she would not have been targeted.

Naturally, he never said anything of this to her. For the most part their conversations skirted all topics pertaining to what had happened. They always talked of other things – happy things, and things that were not necessarily happy but were at least sane and normal. Things that had happened at school, or on the dates they’d had… things from before the incident.

“How is Upamon doing?” Chiho asked. “I’m starting to miss him.” As on his other recent visits, Iori had not brought his partner along, on the theory that maybe Chiho’s parents wouldn’t like to have a Digimon in their home just now.

“He’s fine,” he assured her. “Hopefully you’ll see him again soon.”

“You know, I think I had a dream about him, but I can’t remember when. Actually… you were in it too.”

Iori had felt himself involuntarily tense at the reference to dreams, but he immediately relaxed, his curiosity getting the upper hand of both his negative associations and his pleased embarrassment.

“Ah… really? What was it like?”

“It was nice at first,” she said. “We were in a pretty, old-fashioned place. It was night, and there were cherry trees and a pond.”

Iori looked at her with an odd expression.

“What happened?” he said. “It…”

“Well, it was fine for a while, but it turned into a nightmare. A zombie – I guess it was one – came out of the pond, and…”

Iori listened to her description of the events that followed without saying anything, though he began to sweat and feel cold at the same time. Chiho spoke lightly enough at first, but he thought he could see signs, as she went on, that the dream – the experience – had made a deep impression on her. He knew, of course, exactly when she had dreamed it. The same night he had, when she lay in a hospital bed and he in the blackness of Leng’s evil monastery.

Chiho made no allusion to Iori’s father – whether out of tact or because she had forgotten that detail of the living corpse’s identity, Iori couldn’t tell. He wondered if it might cost her a shock to see Hida Hiroki’s photograph.

Her outline of the dream ended with her being engulfed in living blackness, followed by a sensation of falling. Iori groped for a response to the story once it was over.

“It… sounds like it was scary,” he said.

“Yeah,” Chiho agreed. “It turned into a nightmare.”

Iori stared out the glass door to the apartment’s balcony, too wrapped up in gloomy reflections to really see anything. No wonder Chiho had had nightmares after what had happened. The sense of guilt nagged at him again. He was about to shake it off and focus on being present and having a conversation when Chiho herself broke in on his thoughts.

“But,” she said, “even though it was scary, I had this feeling that it would be alright. Like you were still fighting for me somewhere, even though I couldn’t see you anymore. That’s just the way you are, you know?” She smiled at him, but being unable to read his expression looked quickly away. “I hope I haven’t said anything strange…” she said.

“No,” Iori reassured her. “It’s… it’s nice of you to say.”

It was true, of course. He had fought for her – in the dream – and would have fought for her in the waking world had he been given the chance. If only he could have been there for the fight against Panimon! But it had been left to his seniors to avenge Chiho, while he…

He started a little when Chiho gently rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m glad…” she murmured. About a minute passed as they sat together like that. Iori thought about the apologies he wanted to make but shouldn’t, and what solace was left to him and to her in the wake of what happened.

Then Mrs. Ugaki entered the room, and Chiho stood up with a hint of her old vitality in the movement.

“Want to go somewhere, Iori-kun?” she asked.

In his peripheral vision Iori thought he saw Chiho’s mother pause a moment, but then go on with what she was doing.

“If that’s okay…” he said. Understandably, Chiho’s parents were a little reluctant nowadays to let her out of their sight. But Mrs. Ugaki gave him a slight smile.

“Just be careful,” she said.

“We won’t be gone long,” Iori promised, though Chiho made a mildly sour face at him for it. He followed her to the door, took a moment to slip his shoes back on, and then walked out with her into the sunlight. Over the next hour he did his best to forget the shadows of the past. Nothing could change them. Chiho still needed him, here and now, and he would do his best to be there for her.

***

When Takeru leaned back in his desk chair with a heavy sigh, Patamon opened his eyes where he lay not quite dozing over on the bed. The sigh broke the silence, since the sound of typing had stopped a minute or two before. Seeing that his partner didn’t intend to say anything, Patamon perked up a little, and then said something himself.

“Hey, Takeru, are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Why do you ask, Patamon?” Takeru mumbled in a tone suggesting he didn’t care about the answer.

“Well, you gave that big sigh just now…” Patamon said, his voice trailing off as if he hesitated to say more.

“Oh. I’m just having trouble with writing this part.”

Takeru had been working on his chronicle of the Chosen Children’s adventures. Rather than ask what part he referred to, Patamon instead persisted with, “Is that all?” Takeru didn’t respond. Unable to see his partner’s expression from his position, Patamon went on, timidly, but with a note of eagerness in his voice. “It’s just that, you’ve seemed kind of… you know… down, for a while now. Even though the trouble with the Dark World is over. Is something wrong?”

A few more seconds of silence passed. Takeru’s hands curled into fists where they rested in his lap and then relaxed again.

“Yeah,” he said at last.

“What is it?” prompted Patamon.

Takeru suppressed another sigh and turned round in his chair. He didn’t really feel like talking about it, but part of him recognized that it might do him good to get it off his chest. He fumbled for how to begin. Should he come right out and say it? It occurred to him that Patamon might not understand. After all, Patamon himself…

“Hey… Patamon?” Takeru said. “When you destroy a Digimon, how do you feel about it?”

Patamon thought about that for a few moments, sitting up now, with his wings folded behind him.

“Well,” he said, “I guess I don’t really like doing it, but it’s a good thing, right? Because they were an enemy, and we had to beat them to keep people safe, right? It’s a relief to know that you and everyone else aren’t in danger anymore.”

For a while Takeru didn’t respond. With his eyes on the floor, he finally said, more as if speaking to himself than to his partner, “And it’s not the same, is it? Because Digimon don’t really die. Even Devimon…” His voice trailed off, and again his hands clenched and relaxed. Patamon looked curiously on, unsure both of what was wrong and of what he could say to help. Takeru went on with an impatient gesture.

“I almost killed Sato Katsu, back in the World of Darkness, when Hikari-chan was in danger. If Daisuke-kun hadn’t saved her, I would have pulled the trigger.”

“But you didn’t,” Patamon pointed out.

“But I would have! And I know that there was nothing else to do, and that Sato Katsu was an evil man, but that’s not the point. I was willing to kill someone.”

He paused, still staring at the floor, not meeting his partner’s eyes. He wondered if Patamon thought the speech was hypocritical of him. They had destroyed many Digimon in the past, and even if they’d done so only when there was no other option, the deletion of those enemies had never weighed on his conscience the way the thought that he’d almost killed Sato had in the past week.

“But you didn’t.”

Now Takeru slowly looked up with a strange expression on his face, as if he couldn’t quite believe that Patamon had just brightly chirped those words at him as if that said everything. Patamon was actually smiling at him, though the smile faded a little before Takeru’s expression. Takeru himself was trying to think of what to say. How could he explain to his simple, innocent little friend what he meant? He thought hard for a minute, trying to put into words the moral complexities he was grappling with, but couldn’t frame the problem to his satisfaction. In the end, all he could do was give up and smile back.

“Maybe you’re right, Patamon,” he said. “It’s just…”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Takeru said. He turned back to his computer. “I’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“I’m always here, Takeru,” Patamon said. “If you need me.”

Takeru looked at him with a smile more genuine than the last. “I know,” he said. “Thanks, Patamon.”

_After all,_ Takeru thought as he began typing up a new paragraph, _there’s nothing I can do about it now. I’ll just have to live with it._ What would happen when the time came to write that part of the story? But he pushed the thought aside. A few minutes later he closed the file and stood up to stretch.

“It’s almost time,” he said to Patamon. “Let’s go meet the others.”

Patamon gave his enthusiastic assent, and flapped across the room to his partner’s waiting arms.


	138. Together

_“Hey, what type of future, do you think, is growing on the other autumn’s door?_  
_Hey, lately, why has time suddenly been flowing faster and more confused? …_  
_I’ve just realized that someday, we’ll look back on these memories…_  
_We laughed and we cried, and I won’t forget any of the time we spent together, so don’t worry, friend._  
_Where do you think the border between adulthood and childhood is hidden?_  
_Have you been overreaching yourself? Or depending too much on others? But even halfway through is just fine._  
_…Do you remember how the cold wind and white snow soared forever beneath the never-ending sky?_  
_Don’t say ‘goodbye,’ because this is not a true parting. Don’t change until we meet again, friend…_  
_I won’t lose any of the lost and shaky times that we had together. Is that alright, friend? …_  
_Thank you. We’ll be able to start walking each path from somewhere in our hearts._  
_Whether I’m with you… or we’re apart, friend.”_  
_\- Ai Maeda, “Friend ~I’ll Never Forget You~”_

The day had begun to wane by the time the six of them had finished eating. They’d gotten fast food, largely so that they could leave with a second round of ready-to-go meals to share with their partners, who as stuffed animals had had to settle for sneaking the occasional bite while still in the restaurant.

“Someday we’ll be too old to carry around stuffed animals. We’ll stand out just as much,” Takeru said at one point. Since leaving his apartment he had worn a smile that had grown wholly natural during the time he’d spent with his friends, who had come safe out of so many dangers.

Now the Digimon too had finished their meals, and the group was taking a walk about Odaiba. By the time they approached Daiba Park by way of its bridge of land, the sun had already begun to sink in the sky, and an orange sunset would not be far off. Conversation had grown sporadic as many in the group took to admiring the scenery.

Despite some of them living very near, it wasn’t often that they visited the quiet park on its little manmade island, and yet they associated it with certain memories and with each other. They had met here over a year ago as part of the August 1 memorial, and it was from here that they set out around the world on Imperialdramon last December. Both events came up as the group crossed the grassy, sunken area in the center of the former battery.

“That was the first day me and Minomon reached Ultimate level,” Chibimon said.

“If we’d been able to evolve to Imperialdramon during the big fight a week ago, we could have beaten Dagomon no problem,” said Daisuke.

“I doubt it,” Miyako said, sounding partway between amused and irritated. “Magnamon wasn’t able to hurt him permanently. We’d have been done for if it wasn’t for Hikari-chan, and Tailmon evolving to Holydramon.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Daisuke grumbled. Though all was well that ended well, reminders of his recent failures to protect others remained a bit of a sore spot for him. But, even after all that had happened, he still wasn’t given to brooding – and if at times he felt small and useless, he could usually bring himself out of it by recalling the way he had risked himself to save Hikari from Sato Katsu’s knife.

In a brighter tone he said, “It was cool to see Hikari-chan’s Digimon evolve to Ultimate again.” He looked in Hikari’s direction, and she smiled at him. Miyako nodded enthusiastic agreement.

“This time we got to show our true power,” Tailmon said, walking beside her partner.

“I wonder if I’ll ever evolve to Seraphimon again,” Patamon said.

Takeru, who, happy for the childhood friend he cared so much about, had been smiling at the conversation, darkened a little as he answered, “Hopefully you won’t have to.”

“That’s true,” Iori said. “Even so, I do wonder what Upamon’s Ultimate form would be like, if he could evolve beyond Shakkoumon.”

“It would be so cool if Poromon could reach Ultimate,” Miyako said, looking down at the ball of feathers in her arms.

Their talk went on from there, flowing naturally. It was like old times. They were not free of cares – no one is – but for now no shadow of evil loomed, and they could express themselves easily and freely. They hadn’t even heard yet from Koshiro about Gennai’s vision for a new world.

Of their remaining cares, they had said little to each other. Daisuke had talked a bit to his partner about Nat-chan. When he and the others had gone to the Village of Beginnings to make sure that the danger posed by the Cyclomon had really passed, he and V-mon had looked for any sign that one of those Digitama was hers, but they had been disappointed. Even so, Daisuke hadn’t given up the hope of one day being reunited with her. His natural optimism had survived his ordeal in the World of Darkness, if not quite in the same form. Maybe someday their paths would cross again. He looked forward to it. Partner or no partner, he would introduce her to everyone, and he knew that they would love her as he did, and that her loneliness would finally melt away in the warmth of their friendship.

Ken, at this moment, was simply listening as his friends talked. When they had mentioned gathering here at Daiba Park on August 1 of the previous year, he had reflected on the fact that he hadn’t been with them. Instead he had been the Digimon Kaiser, hiding in the Digital World, wrapped in the depths of his private darkness. How different August 1, 2003 had been!

The thought had led him to muse about his past. Memories had slowly begun to come back to him of his life before the nightmare of the Kaiser – the time he spent with Akiyama Ryo in the fight against Millenniumon – but they were still scattered and vague.

Koshiro had suggested the possibility of using Shadramon’s psychic abilities to salvage the missing information from Ken’s subconscious. But Ken hadn’t yet given him a definite response to the idea. The truth was that Ken wasn’t sure he wanted to regain everything. Partly it was because of the pain he knew would be found in those memories, and partly also the risk deterred him. He remembered the sensation of Dagomon’s delving into his mind – not only during that final battle, but in the nightmares, and perhaps even in his previous encounters with the Dark Ocean. His partner would never intentionally do anything to harm him, but the manipulation of thoughts and memories was an inherently dangerous business.

The main reason for Ken’s hesitation, however, was not these forebodings but the possibility that regaining everything was not necessary. Despite his limited knowledge, or perhaps partly because of it, he had managed to come to terms – as nearly as possible – with what had happened to him. He had set aside the lost things, the things that he couldn’t change. Before the events of this month he had been essentially at peace. It was the Dark Man and the unnatural nightmares that had dredged up the forgotten past, and Ken thought it would pay to remember that. The subject had not been broached in his best interests. For now, he was content to live in the present.

A little tired out by their walk, the Chosen Children and their partners (at least those who had been walking rather than carried), eventually sat down in the grass near the extreme end of the park, just short of the low rope fence where the grass sloped down to the edge of the artificial island. To their left was Odaiba, the distinctive television station of many memories clearly visible, while to their right was Rainbow Bridge. On all sides they could feel the presence of Tokyo Bay, with the great city beyond it, and the sun beginning to set in the distant, dreaming west.

Silence fell for a few moments as they rested there. In breaking it, Miyako summed up the general feeling with, “Beautiful, isn’t it?” The others agreed with words or nods. “Hard to believe that the world was almost dark and gray forever.” Again there was general agreement, but it was quieter, more solemn.

It struck Hikari again, as it had several times in the past few days, that she and the others had beaten the forces of the Dark Ocean. It seemed strange to her to think that she had no reason to fear any further attack from that quarter, with Dagomon destroyed. She hadn’t realized, until the lurking threat had finally been overcome, how much it had weighed her down, even when not consciously on her mind. For over a year the fear of the unknown had been hanging over her like a black cloud, but now that cloud was gone.

Would another ever take its place? She had no way of knowing – the mental powers she had so recently come to grasp did not allow her to tell the future – but she dared to hope that nothing would. Challenges there might be, even complications arising from her abilities, or new threats to the lives of the Chosen Children and their loved ones, but with Homeostasis no longer within her, the powers of darkness might never again threaten to overwhelm her soul.

As for her remaining abilities, she did wonder sometimes about them. Since the battle she had made no conscious use of them. Without the impetus of danger, she wasn’t sure whether she could. Perhaps time would tell. She didn’t feel any different now than she always had. She was still herself.

Miyako broke in on Hikari’s reflections by speaking again. “Sorry if I said something weird just now,” she said, a little nervous because no one else had made any further comment for a few quiet seconds. “I mean,” she went on, “we aren’t here to think about depressing stuff like that.”

Hikari surprised herself a little by speaking up. “No, I think it’s fine. Remember the day Tailmon and Poromon Jogress Evolved, Miyako-san?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I think I said I was jealous of you.”

“How could Hikari-chan ever be jealous of Miyako?” Daisuke wondered.

“Hey!” Miyako interjected. Hikari and the others laughed a little.

“I sometimes envy Miyako-san because she isn’t afraid to speak her mind,” Hikari continued. “I thought that maybe I kept getting pulled back into the Dark World because I kept so much inside. And… I guess I was right. Homeostasis-san showed me that. If we’re honest, and talk about our fears, we can fight them better.”

“Like, by helping each other, right?” Miyako said.

“By sharing the burden,” said Iori, softly.

“I think you’re right, Hikari-chan,” Takeru said, his mind going back to the conversation he’d had with Patamon in his room. At the moment he said nothing about what had been on his mind, but he thought that perhaps one day – maybe very soon – he would tell them about the scar on his conscience that had cut so much deeper than the wounds the Pipismon had made in his leg. “In the nightmares we always wound up alone…” he said. “And the things in them…” He laughed a little. “We’ve been through a lot, haven’t we?”

 _We have,_ Ken thought. _All of us._ “I wonder if it will ever become easier,” he said aloud, as much to himself as to the others. “Will we ever be able to overcome the past entirely?”

“I think that’s a little too much to hope for,” Hikari said with a smile. “But I think I’m fine with that. As long as I’m not alone.”

“And you’ll never be alone,” Tailmon said.

“We’re all going to be friends forever, right?” said Daisuke with a grin.

Everyone assented enthusiastically, and the shadows fled from their thoughts.

“Daisuke, I’m hungry,” piped Chibimon.

“Already? You haven’t even been walking.”

“A Digimon’s stomach is bottomless,” Takeru smiled.

“Alright!” Miyako said. “Back home for snacks? I know Poromon’s gotta be hungry too. And maybe a game or something?”

“A card game would be nice,” Iori offered.

“Or video games at my place!” said Daisuke.

By now everyone had stood up and was stretching their legs. Still chatting and laughing, the group crossed the park and headed back to Odaiba proper. The sun continued to sink towards the horizon, and a night free of terrors soon began.

THE END

Afterword

And so it’s finished. It’s almost hard to believe. A long week for the Chosen Children has been over five years for me, and the adventure has been interesting, and full of ups and downs. I suppose that I’ve just finished my first novel, though since it’s Digimon fan fiction I suppose there will always be an asterisk beside that factoid. When I first started writing _The Call_ , I had no idea of the size it would grow to become. In that way as in other ways it’s been a learning experience.

Whether _The Call_ should be considered successful or not, I leave it to the individual reader to decide. I think that if I were to write it again I would do things a little differently. It wound up being what M. R. James might have called “a cruelly long book,” and I think it could have benefitted from being more streamlined, but it is what it is. I also wish that I’d made the average length of a chapter longer (if only so I wouldn’t have had to hunt up so many epigraphs).

As far as the “feel” of the story, a number of readers have complimented me on how close the characters are to their canon depictions, which I’m glad of, since it was one of my central goals. On the other hand, I think that the tone may have been too uniformly grim when compared to the source material. Hopefully that hasn’t struck many people as a major defect. One of the risks of writing fan fiction is offending people through your treatment of characters they know and love.

To all my readers, both on the With the Will Digimon forums, where the earlier chapters were posted, and on this site, thank you for reading. I hope that you have been rewarded for your time and patience. Thanks especially to my reviewers, whose comments both provided me with encouragement and let me know where I went wrong. Now that the story is finished, I hope that you will let me know what you thought of _The Call_ as a whole.

At times during the production of the story I have considered doing some rewriting after it was finished, but I think it’s better (certainly easier) to let the thing stand as it is. One major screw-up I made was the location of Sora’s apartment, which should be in Odaiba Mansion rather than the Searea apartments, but making the change at this point would require more rewriting than I’d care to take on.

Will I return to writing fan fiction in the future? That depends on several things. One is my own level of interest. Remember that I resisted writing _The Call_ for quite a while, though in the end I felt that the story needed to be told if I wanted it to let me alone. As with my professional writing, I have plenty of ideas for stories, but my time and energy are unfortunately limited. Time and effort spent on writing fan fiction could go towards more productive things, such as my career as an author.

Another factor is the interest in future stories that might be expressed by you, my readers. If you’d like me to take another whack at fan fiction, let me know, and you may be able to tip the balance. As I said, I have a number of ideas for Digimon stories. Of the definite conceptions, there are potential sequels to Tamers, Frontier, and Savers, an alternate universe version of Savers, a short story set in the timeline of _The Call_ , and two ideas for novels taking place in my own, original universes (or “OUs”; I’m hoping the term will catch on). I am definitely not prepared to start on any of the three sequel novels at the moment. The announcement and release of Digimon Adventure Tri turned _The Call_ into an AU, which wasn’t my original intention, and while it’s unlikely that we’ll be seeing official sequels to other Digimon anime series, there’s a possibility, so for the moment I’d rather wait until we find out what Toei’s got coming next.

That leaves four possibilities for my next fanfic (if I ever write one), which I may as well say a few words about here.

1.) “Summer Memory”  
A short story about Wallace and his partner Digimon, set mostly between the events of the third movie and the events of _The Call_. Just by virtue of its being a short story, I’m a little more likely to write this fanfic than one of the other, more ambitious ones.

2.) [Digimon Savers AU – title to be determined]  
A rather different version of Savers based on some of the early conceptual ideas for the fifth anime series. From Yamaguchi Ryota’s notes: “The counterplot I submitted to beat the first presented proposal was about banchou all over Japan who have partner Digimon, and the hero accomplishing nationwide conquest through fights with Digimon (of course, this was rejected immediately). If circumstances permitted, Yoshino, the Kansai, nunchaku-wielding female gang leader, and Touma, the American lone-wolf who crushed New York’s mafia all by himself, would have possibly appeared.”

3.) _Gunman_  
An “OU” story that would basically be a Digimon Western, featuring only Digimon, with no human characters. Its hero (or possibly antihero) is MagnaKidmon. Widely known as “the Kid,” he’s a wanted outlaw and famous gunfighter whose past isn’t entirely known even to himself. The novel would follow his adventures as he wanders through the Digital World.

4.) [OU novel – title to be determined]  
In a Digital World without gods or rulers, six armies struggle for global domination. Each is led by one of the Big Death-Stars, and behind each of them is one of the humans known as Anarchs. Basically you’d have six Digimon Kaisers warring with each other, with various developments arising from that.

If one or more of these sounds particularly interesting, you can let me know in a review or private message, and maybe someday I’ll return to the medium of fan fiction. For the moment, I can only thank you once again for reading _The Call_.


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